One Good Day
by Farscaped
Summary: Post-"Crichton Kicks":No Moya, No Aeryn, No Hope. With nothing left to lose Crichton takes a leap of faith -- and finds something he never expected. (Revised and edited)
1. Comforting Company

E-mail: Gogetta86@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimers: I own none of these characters (I wish), they belong to Jim Henson and associates, plus a bunch of other people.  
  
Reviews please, I love feedback (who doesn't?), no flames  
  
Spoilers: Anything from Season 1 to Season 4 (Crichton Kicks) is fair game.  
  
Author's Note: Alas this is my final release, its been fun. It's been re- edited for better formatting and I touched up a few thing, added things here, changed things there, all very minor, I also spaced it out to 9 chapters. I'd like to give my personal thanks to OneEye the DRD! She reformatted the story for me and any glaring errors are probably mine due to my incessant meddling of the story after she finished tweaking it. Sequel may be in the works, as of now I'm uncertain, I may need a bit of coaxing (, and remember stay nice to us Canadians!  
  
now with nothing left ado here's:  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
One Good Day  
  
By Farscaped  
  
Chapter 1: Comforting Company  
  
John Crichton stared absently out the terrace. It wasn't Moya, but that didn't make the view any less spectacular. It was his window to the stars, he couldn't imagine what would happen if he tired of it. John chuckled. Perhaps a bullet would be in order, but the chances of finding a bullet were fairly remote, so he guessed he probably should keep on enjoying the view.  
  
He kept staring outward, looking for something that kept gnawing at him, in the back of his mind, but he was unsure of what it was. 'What am I doing? I keep looking but what is it I'm looking for? Earth? Moya? Scorpius? Or maybe...' He shook his head sadly. He knew exactly what he was looking for. His guiding star, the one at the centre of his universe -- Aeryn.  
  
"You're obsessed, old man."  
  
John stiffened, startled from his reverie. After placing his grin on like a well-worn mask, he faced the intruder. "Hey Pip! I am not...well, actually, I guess I am," he admitted thoughtfully. Of course, now being thoughtful, a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute. How did you know what I was thinking?"  
  
Chiana smiled sweetly at him. She crouched and tilted her head. "Well, old man, there are only three things on your mind: Scorpius, Earth, and Aeryn. Besides, you had this dreamy look on your face," she explained, imitating his supposed expression. John snorted indignantly. "Well, that and the fact that you were thinking out loud again."  
  
John stared incredulously at her. She shifted her weight nervously under his gaze. He then grinned and turned to the window. "You know, you're not the only one to tell me that."  
  
Chiana raised an eyebrow. "About what? That you think aloud?"  
  
John sighed heavily. Chiana moved her face in front of Crichton and gave him a cheeky grin. John rolled his eyes. Her dark ebony eyes looked so thoughtful, so kind, and so mischievous. Looking back at the stars, he felt a small grey hand squeeze his shoulder, comforting him.  
  
His thoughts drifted back to his original train of thought as his gazed at the great abyss before him. 'Aeryn.' She wouldn't leave him alone -- her beautiful face, her intense gaze, her raven black hair that felt like strands of silk -- they haunted him constantly whenever he closed his eyes. Now she was gone, leaving him alone in the middle of nowhere with no way to find her.  
  
'Pregnant.' John shuddered. Another child who would never know his or her real father. 'Worse, kids of mine I'll never know.' The old wound of the child in Princess Katralla's womb flared anew, joined now by Aeryn's child; his child. John snorted to himself. 'That's the real problem in this whole mess. It's not even my kid...well, it is. But not mine in the litera...wait, yes it is but not in the figurat...,' John sighed. 'Forget it, I'll only give myself a headache.' John suddenly felt very old, stretched too thin. His hope kept him going, but the fuel gauge was on its way to empty and the little orange warning light was already on.  
  
Chiana stayed silent, watching the human converse with himself in his own mind. 'I've never seen him this bad. He always seemed to snap out of it before. Something's different, something is definitely wrong with him. Aeryn leaving hit him hard but I had no idea it would be so bad. John tries so hard to seem strong, he deserves a break. Normally I'd suggest a good frell, but that'd probably just make it worse. I hope he gets through this. Frell Aeryn, he deserves better than this!' she thought worriedly.  
  
Crichton suddenly seemed to crumple into himself, sitting silently, just watching the universe go by. Chiana moved in, concerned. She'd seen him often like this lately and didn't like the look of it, though she guessed it could be worse; he could be frelling wasted. Chiana walked closer to him until something caught her attention. His hand was shaking violently. At least she thought so. The hand was removed from view so quickly she almost missed seeing it. "Are you okay John? Please, John, tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Hmmm? Don't worry about it, it's nothing," he said, giving her his best lop-sided grin. "I'm only human."  
  
Chiana looked at him intently. He hadn't answered her question, or maybe perhaps he had. He was hiding something and the fact that he was human gave her something to worry about.  
  
John hoped Chiana would drop the subject. This was something he definitely did not want to explain. He was thankful to finally get his hand under control. Hopefully Chiana would shrug it off as her imagination. He kept his grin on what he called "set to stun". 'Oh my god I'm turning into Captain 'screw the multicoloured chick' Kirk! God, what's next? Priceline commercials?' Shuddering inwardly, he wondered how well his grin was working. So far, it hadn't worked all that well, but his luck was bound to get better before it got worse, if it could get any worse. Unfortunately for John, he knew how much worse it could get.  
  
He gazed into Chiana's large eyes. He loved the little Nebari to death, what would happen if she left? He decided it was better not to think about it too much. Her concern, though, was fairly evident. He was almost compelled to tell her the truth. He felt guilty not telling her but he shook the thought away. 'It'll only hurt her and gain everyone something else to worry about, which is what we don't need at this moment.'  
  
He turned his face away, wishing that the tear forming under his right eye would go away. He felt two small arms embrace him tightly. John hadn't felt like he did then in god knows how long. It felt good having someone embrace him, someone who cared about him, who cared for him. He burned the moment into his mind as something to live for. Whether it was enough was left to be seen. He relaxed in Chiana's arms, closed his eyes and drifted into the first comfortable slumber he had in perhaps a cycle. The ever-threatening tear dropped, out of sight from Chiana's protective gaze.  
  
Chiana held the warm human in her arms protectively like a small child. He seemed so vulnerable like this. She felt sad for him. This poor man just had the major foundations of his life ripped out from underneath him for perhaps the second, third, or even fourth time. He wasn't the only one suffering but he was suffering the most.  
  
He tried not to show it; in fact, he spent most of his time trying to make the others feel better. She knew though that the strain was getting to him. He could only take so much. She smiled. After all, he was only human. Her grin abruptly vanished. She replayed that sentence in her head, and a cold chill ran down her spine. Something was definitely wrong with him. She was determined to find out what it was. Then she heard John mumble something in his sleep. "I just wanna go home." Chiana held him tighter. 


	2. Shattered Dreams

Chapter 2: Shattered Dreams  
  
John woke up and flew out of bed with cold sweat pouring down his brow. "Oh man, I need to get a grip; that's it I'm swearin' off sleep," he said to himself. Dreams -- or nightmares, depending on what you called them -- haunted Crichton during his slumber. Giving up sleep hadn't helped, just made him more ill but the alternative wasn't much better. Images of Scorpius, chairs, people he'd killed, Aeryn dying, Zhaan dying, and the Energizer bunny had invaded his quiet retreat. Nowhere was safe for him anymore, not even the once-cherished calm of sleep.  
  
He quickly decided to get dressed, but with an insight of brilliance, which for John was rapidly becoming few and far between, he realized he was already clothed. A quick inspection justified his case. 'I must be losing my mind. Why the hell not, I've lost pretty much everything else,' he thought bitterly.  
  
"Uh, Pilot, what time is it?" John asked into his comm.  
  
"It's about halfway through your sleeping cycle," the decidedly feminine voice answered him. "Any reason you're awake?" she asked.  
  
"Ah, no Pilot, just a bad dream, sorry to bother you. Good night."  
  
"It was no bother, do not worry. Good night Commander Crichton." Then the comm died.  
  
"Man I need to go for a walk," John said to himself. He walked out of his chambers and down the corridor.  
  
He didn't know where he was going, and it didn't matter anyway. He just had to walk. Images of Aeryn, Scorpius, Moya, wormholes, they ran through his head at light speed, each blurring into the next until he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. In a moment of clarity, one thought burst into the forefront: Earth. The green and brown landmasses, the swirling white and wispy clouds, the blue and aqua coloured oceans. 'Is Earth home, I wonder? But if it's not, where is home? That's obvious stupid; home is where the heart is. But where is my heart? Oh yeah, that's right, it's gone straight down the dren hole after someone blew their nose with it and then used it to wipe their eema.' John chuckled at that. 'Even my thoughts are turning PG-13.' "Bastards can screw with my brain and rip out my heart but they can never take my sense of HUMOR!" he shouted trying desperately to sound like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. 'God, this is pathetic; I need a day off. I wonder what's on cable.'  
  
"Your immature and childish musings aren't going help you now, John."  
  
The hairs on the back of John's neck stood up straight. The breeze rushed by his face as the sound of waves crashing down upon the shore permeated his ears. "A beach, great, I am losing my mind." He paused for effect. "Again."  
  
"No John, you're not insane, not yet anyway, but I'm starting to grow concerned for you."  
  
John whirled around, dropping his surfboard, which coincidentally he hadn't known he'd been holding. He stared at it in surprise, but quickly looked back at the insidious speaker, grinning like a madman, which, at the moment, he was. "Hey Harvey, I'm touched! Nice of you to show up and join the party! I was getting lonely without you. Where've you been? I missed you. Bring the volleyball? I got the beers and steaks." As if by magic a barbecue appeared from nothingness with big juicy steaks sizzling on the grill.  
  
Harvey gave him a cold stare. "I'm worried, John. You actually did miss me and you have been getting lonely."  
  
John snorted. "How about 'it's nice to see you, John, I'm so pleased I'm not in the dumpster anymore, John. Damn, Harv, what are you, my psychiatrist?" he drawled. "Half of the reasons I'm like this are because of you!"  
  
Harvey rubbed his hands together and started to walk down the beach. "Come walk with me John."  
  
Crichton stood there on the beach, stubbornly trying not to give in to Harvey's whims. "Ah well, it's not like I've got anything better to do!" John shouted as he ran to catch up.  
  
"I was the reason for many of your problems, but you know as much as I do that it's not my fault. Not this time, at any rate."  
  
John laughed cynically. "Oh really, Harv? So, if its not your fault I'm like this and feel like shit, then whose is it?"  
  
Harvey stopped walking. "Isn't it obvious, even to you? Even a higher brain function deficient life form such as yourself should be able to figure it out."  
  
John placed his hands on his hips and stared at Harvey menacingly. "I'm not here to have my intelligence insulted; if I wanted that, I could walk around in the real world."  
  
Harvey shrugged and pointed behind John. "All right, if you don't know, it's her fault."  
  
John spun around, dreading what he would see. Or rather, what he knew he would see. There she was, standing in the moonlight as the day suddenly turned into dark night. Shadows danced upon the sand. The stars twinkled in mocking laughter. His heart stopped. "Aeryn," he whispered.  
  
There she was in all her brilliance in a gold bikini, much to John's delight. A lightning bolt struck his heart and it began to beat once more. 'Great, everything is friggin' literal in this place!' he thought, less than amused. The sound of his heart rang in his ears; the rhythmic sound matched the pace of his breathing. Suddenly a figure came through the moonlight. Walking over to Aeryn, the figure grabbed her and pulled her face into his. She stood kissing another man, wasn't even fighting him off, she actually deepened the kiss. Crichton couldn't make out the face, but it didn't matter. It wasn't him, that's all he needed to know.  
  
John felt his heart skip a beat and then the distinct sound ceased altogether. Unable to move or close his eyes, he watched, his heart slowly turning to dust and getting lost among the endless dunes upon the beach. His right hand started to shake violently. She was kissing the unknown man passionately, seemed to drink him in as she shoved him to the sandy beach savagely. Her raven hair moved in the breeze as her eyes shone from starlight. Gods she was so beautiful. "No more, no more, make it stop. I can't take this," John sobbed as he sank to his knees; his greatest fantasy was turning into his worst nightmare before his eyes.  
  
Harvey crouched behind him and whispered into his ear. "I'm not doing anything, John, this is your mind. You must make it stop. I'm just a poor soul dragged into this mess. Trust me, I want out just as badly as you." Tears stained John's cheeks as he watched Aeryn ravage the man in front of him with a grin. A sharp pain ran through his chest.  
  
Aeryn turned to him. Just for a second, John's heart leaped into his throat, but then she widened her smile maliciously and continued to her work, doing things John had only dreamt about. 'Hell, why wouldn't she be doing things I've dreamt about, it is my bloody head.for now at least.' It was his mind but he had lost control, he was helpless and couldn't turn away.  
  
John couldn't breathe. He felt as if he were drowning. Suddenly he was thrust into the ocean, fighting against the raging surf. His face pummelled by the ocean as he was tossed about, lost among the rampaging waves. The cold water enveloped him and would not let him go. The salty liquid gushed into his mouth, burning his throat on the way down. His eyes burned as the salty water coated them. Aeryn's laughter and cries of pleasure echoed off the waves, scarring John's heart. Desperately he tried to hold onto something, anything he could find, but the sea was empty and he was alone, painfully alone. He looked up just before he sank underneath the angered sea. In the sky hung a blue, green, and white jewel. "Earth," he whispered before he sank into the endless depths of the abyss.  
  
When he finally opened his eyes, he noticed he was inside the maintenance bay. How he'd gotten there he had no idea. "I could be dreaming again," he warned himself aloud. "Of course, dreaming doesn't hurt so bad. Wait, yes it does," he muttered sarcastically. He groaned as he tried to get up. All of his muscles were rigid causing intense irritation; in fact it hurt like hell. He stretched, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort he felt, but to no avail.  
  
"Ah shit, this hurts." He steadied himself upright and used a crate as a support to stand up, his feeble legs gave up and he crashed back down to the cold deck. Finally Crichton got himself back on both feet on his second try. "Now why the frell am I here?" A salty flavour in his mouth surprised him. He touched his lips feeling the tip of his fingers moisten. A red substance appeared. "Blood?" A numb pain he felt from his mouth flared up. "Crap, my lip's cut." John stared at the floor and saw much more of his blood. 'Funny how I missed that,' he thought. That much blood couldn't have come from his mouth. He checked his nose; it was wet. "A nose bleed?" he whispered. "That still doesn't explain what the hell I was doing on the floor," he groaned. Slowly he walked out to go talk to Pilot, his cramping muscles slowing his pace.  
  
  
  
"Pilot I need help," John stated.  
  
"What is it Commander Crichton? How can Elack and I be of assistance?" the ancient creature asked slowly in concern.  
  
"Well, Pilot, I've been a little sick for awhile, well for more then a while but it's gotten pretty bad."  
  
Pilot's eyes nodded as her back drooped; the DRDs had been watching his behaviour. "In what way Commander?" she asked in obvious concern, trying to find the extent of his illness.  
  
"I dunno. Parts of my body shake uncontrollably. I've just been passed out in the maintenance bay for the last three arns. My nose has started to bleed unexplainably. I haven't been sleeping well, or sleeping period, for a while now. When Chiana brought me to my room last night, I was having nightmares. My muscles spasm and cramp every once in a while. To put it in a nutshell, I feel like shit and I'm starting to look the part," John said with a mild grin. He walked over to sit next to the giant gentle creature, but his smile faded as it turned into a wince. Slouching over he placed an arm on the gentle being to steady himself.  
  
"Commander are you alright!" Pilot shouted in alarm.  
  
Crichton forced a boyish grin to help alleviate her concern. "Nothing to worry about. Just my inferior human physiology acting up. My body's still sore from being passed out; I might've had a seizure. Ah well, it ain't so bad, the pain's going away." He smiled more widely, but it came out as an expression of pain. John doubled over and spat out blood all over the floor. His stomach heaved as more blood spilt out. When he stopped he turned to look at Pilot. "Um, Pilot, this isn't good. Promise me not to tell the others."  
  
"But Commander, you're seriously--" she started.  
  
"Promise me." John pleaded. His eyes were so innocent, so open as he begged.  
  
"I promise." Pilot said solemnly.  
  
He grinned, but soon found himself dizzy. "Thanks. I'll be away for awhile; call if you need me!" Crichton said, right before he passed out and crashed onto the blood-soaked deck. This time there were no more shattered dreams. 


	3. Cause for Concern

Chapter 3: Cause for Concern  
  
Chiana walked into the mess hall. As usual, Rygel had situated himself over a plate of food cubes. Sikozu, oddly enough, was also in the room. Chiana grabbed a few food cubes and sat in front of the fire-haired women. "How are you?"  
  
Sikozu lifted her head. "How do you think? I'm stuck here with nobody for company but an overly self important slug, a sex crazed Nebari, and a member of a deficient species who I'm pretty sure is frelling farhbot, so how do you think I am!"  
  
Chiana just gave her best friendly grin. "Welcome to the club."  
  
Sikozu snorted. The fiery redhead was picking up Nebari fast. She rolled her eyes. "Frelling human. You know that before him, I would have had no problem with finding a pilot and a Leviathan to be killed for their tissues. I thought that they were just animals -- impressive ones, I admit, but animals nonetheless. Now I see the bond that the human and the pilot have, and the way she talks to him. Now I feel guilty for finding the graveyard. I didn't know that they had souls. I honestly didn't want to know. Frelling human," she growled.  
  
Chiana grinned. "You're not the first to say that, and you won't be the last, either. You have no idea how many times those two words have been spoken together."  
  
Sikozu looked up and smiled but she shifted nervously. "I'm also worried," she suddenly blurted.  
  
Chiana cocked her head in surprise. "About what?"  
  
"The frelling human. He seems different. He's paler, and his eyes seem withdrawn and his eyes have become increasingly redder. I swear I saw his hand shaking violently. He's become more distant and deranged. I've actually seen him carry a conversation with himself! For some reason, I don't think that's normal behaviour."  
  
Chiana leaned in closer. "I know. I'm worried too; Crichton is one of the only people left in the universe I care about."  
  
An unexpected voice startled them. "I'm also concerned; I care about the deficient creature as well." Chiana and Sikozu turned around abruptly to locate the voice. Looking as regal as possible, Rygel sat on his throne sled.  
  
Chiana was about to say a snide remark but the look on Rygel's face was genuine concern. She was surprised to say the least. "Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of this."  
  
  
  
Pilot focused on the work around her. She was troubled and wanted to tell the others. But she had promised. She sighed. When Crichton had awakened two arns later, he looked worse, even more haggard then when he first came in. He had asked her to find a planet with good doctors, discreetly, without the others finding out. She had obeyed his wishes. Something registered on her scanners. She smiled. "Yes Elack, I see it. Crichton can you please come to the den?" She heard a grunt of acknowledgement.  
  
John walked into Pilot's den microts later. A wave of fear washed over the ancient pilot at Crichton's appearance. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his hair messy and sticking up in all directions. Blood caked his shirt, and his face had a ghostly pale complexion. Sweat poured down his forehead. His eyes seem haunted, but the fire he always had was still there, barely, and he gave Pilot his best cheeky smile. "Don't worry Pilot, I feel worse than I look," he stated with a chuckle. His chuckle soon turned into a fit of coughing. "Damn, I can't wait till I can laugh without losing a lung. I still need those," John said stubbornly. "So whatcha got?"  
  
Pilot did the closest thing to a smile a member of her species could. "We've found a planet about two arns away that seems to have excellent medical facilities. It seems friendly enough, and there is no peacekeeper presence as far as I can tell, though I doubt they'd be out this far."  
  
John jumped up and hugged the towering alien. "Sounds great. Tell the others we need supplies of some sort, make something up." Leaning in closer he whispered "Thank you." And then he was gone.  
  
Elack whispered something to her, something only she could hear. "I know, he is a kind soul. I wish him well. Let us hope no misfortune befalls him. We need to keep an eye on him." The least she could do was watch.  
  
  
  
John walked to his quarters as quickly as possible. He was in such a hurry that he didn't notice a small shape shadowing his steps, with two stalks, two glowing lights, and the words 1812 painted on the side.  
  
The only thing on Crichton's mind the fear of having one of the others see him like this. For the first time in a long time, luck was with him as he reached his room without incident. Quickly John washed, scrubbed, and scraped all sign of his sickness from his body, and when he was done he looked somewhat human and as red as a tomato. "My skin's gonna be sore later. No, wait, it's sore now. How many layers did I just rip off?" He grimaced.  
  
Crichton strapped on both of his pulse pistols and wore his peacekeeper leather coat. Scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror, he grinned. "I'm one bad mutha...shut your mouth." He chuckled silently to himself. "I could give Keanu Reeves a run for his money as the all-time coolest action hero." His comm badge suddenly came alive.  
  
"Commander Crichton, we've arrived at the planet. The others have already been informed that I require a certain medicine to help keep me alert and they require more food."  
  
John grinned. "Thanks Pilot, you're the best. Please get some rest, you must be exhausted." With that John left his quarters and headed to the maintenance bay.  
  
  
  
Chiana stood outside a transport, shifting uncomfortably. She had a feeling something was going to go horribly wrong; the human called it rattlers.  
  
"Hey Pip!" John yelled.  
  
Chiana stopped brooding over her intuition and looked at the human. He looked decidedly healthier and better spirited than she had last seen him. "You're late, old man," she stated in mock annoyance.  
  
Crichton just smiled. "You know, when you get to be my age, your old bones won't be able to be hurried anymore. Young people today are so impatient. You probably think the universe revolves around you. Kids! What a bother, I wonder why we bother havin' 'em," said an exasperated John as he pointed a shaking figure at Chiana. He then started to walk over to the pod, hunched over while using a spare metal rod as a walking stick.  
  
She broke out laughing at his comical appearance. 'Well at least his humour's intact,' thought Chi. John graced her with another hearty grin and twinkling eyes.  
  
Within moments he rushed into his module in a blink in an eye, leaving Chiana standing outside. Crichton poked his head out of the hatch. "Hey Chi, you comin'? I mean, you're so slow for someone so young. You're holdin' me up, slowpoke!"  
  
Chi gave him an icy stare even though she had no idea what a slowpoke was. John slowly slumped back into his seat with a self-satisfied grin that Chiana really hoped would go away. "Why are we taking this anyway?"  
  
"Well, my dear, because the transport pods are more likely to break down, and I want to refuel my module. Besides, it'll be nice to fly it again."  
  
"It's still a bucket of dren." Chiana retorted. John pouted, making her giggle. He grinned at her and powered up the small craft.  
  
  
  
John skilfully landed the module without even a thud; he still was slightly irked that no one ever commented on his piloting prowess.  
  
Chiana climbed out first. Sand swirled around her body and blew off into the distant horizon. The bleak surroundings' only colours were various earth tones such as browns and yellows, making her grey skin stand oddly out of place. The dusty city was fairly large, filled with various markets and bars.  
  
John jumped out behind Chiana, squinting to keep the sand out of his eyes. The sand caked on his hair and lips. "Ah Pip, looks like we flew right into Mos Eisley."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"You know a wretched hive of scum and villainy." Chi stared at him incredulously. "Forget it, but if I see C-3P0, I'm gonna shoot myself, better yet, I'll shoot him." Chiana sighed and walked ahead, giving him the "more human nonsense" look. John just chuckled knowing how much it infuriated the others when they didn't understand anything he said. It was only fair he thought, because he had no idea what they said half the time either. Crichton went to order fuel for his module and then he and Chiana set out on their shopping expedition.  
  
Chiana watched the human as they walked. 'It doesn't look like there's much cause for concern, yet,' she thought. 


	4. Twists of Fate

Chapter 4: Twists of Fate  
  
John noticed the worried Nebari getting interested in some nearby pieces of jewellery and other unique artifacts. She eventually stopped paying attention to him altogether. "Well, Chi, I'm going to grab some of the stuff Pilot needs, so I might be gone for an arn or two, okay? I'm trust you'll keep yourself occupied." Chiana mumbled something in reply as she gazed over an interesting broach. "I'll take that as a yes," John said, then headed for the nearest doctor Pilot had located for him.  
  
The doctor proved to be most cooperative when John showed him the hefty sum of gems that had been in Elack's cargo bay, not to mention a few healthy taps on his pulse pistol. Things went more smoothly than anticipated. The doctor asked him a few questions about his unique physiology and symptoms, then ran a few scans. The medic, who was about eight feet tall with various tentacles and green skin, told John that he would contact the Leviathan when the diagnosis was complete. "Thanks, doc. At least not all doctors in the Uncharteds are complete psychopaths."  
  
The doctor stared at him intently. "No sir, thank you," the doctor said, smiling, while bouncing a bag of gems in his hand.  
  
John walked out slowly, a wave of dizziness returning but nothing life- threatening. He went to grab the drug that would keep Pilot awake; despite it being used as a decoy; Pilot really needed something to keep her alert. Her drowsiness could end up getting them all killed someday.  
  
Suddenly, something caught his attention. "No frelling way. My eyes must be screwin' with me," he said as he caught sight of a head of raven coloured hair whipping around a corner. Crichton rubbed his eyes. "I must be hallucinating or something. Oh well, better follow just in case." John disappeared into the shadows like a wraith.  
  
  
  
Chiana looked keenly at a necklace on display. "Hey John, will you look at this?" Only the wind answered her. "John?" She looked around, but he was nowhere in sight. "Frelling human. Where'd he go?" She suddenly remembered what he said earlier. "Oh frell." Chiana ran through the bustling crowds to find her alien companion.  
  
  
  
John followed the familiar woman unseen. He wove through alleys and shadows without anyone noticing. A sixth sense caused the woman to stop suddenly and turn. She scanned the crowd behind her. Crichton squinted to get a good look. "Oh man. Aeryn," he whispered. She ducked into an alley. "It could still be all in my head, man."  
  
  
  
Aeryn looked around the crowd. She had that funny feeling she was being followed. She un-holstered her pulse pistol and moved slowly into a dark alley. Trash was strewn about and smoke rose out of pipes sticking up gracelessly from the ground. Dust swirled everywhere. Water dripped from the buildings, leaving the usually dry landscape moist. Her shoes made crunching sounds as she moved, the dripping sound placing her into a rhythm. She looked all around, keeping herself aware of the surroundings and staying as vigilant as possible.  
  
A deep cool and calm voice cut through the darkness. "Don't move, put your pistol down."  
  
'Frell' she thought. 'To be captured like this.' She swore mentally at herself and at everything. 'Well at least the man was a professional.' Aeryn turned to the shadow on the right where the voice came from. A pulse pistol was easily seen poking out from the shadow. Quickly, with terrifying speed, she brought her pistol to bear only to see a bright flash and her pulse gun falling to the ground in pieces. Suddenly the figure stepped out, leaving the shadows covering half of his features. The smoke blurred his features.  
  
"I'm really getting sick of guns constantly being pointed at my head."  
  
Aeryn gasped. There was no mistaking that voice, standing in front of her was the figure of John Crichton.  
  
  
  
John heard Aeryn gasp. He slowly lowered his gun but kept it ready just in case. 'Hey, you never know.' He told himself silently; then he heard Aeryn swear. 'Uh oh that isn't good,' he thought.  
  
"What the frell are you doing here Crichton!" she hissed.  
  
"Getting supplies! What the hell are you doing here!" John shouted defensively.  
  
"That's none of your business."  
  
John threw his hands in the air. "None of my business!" he shouted. Struggling with his tired and worn emotions, he managed to calm himself down. "Why'd you leave?" he asked, to hell with subtlety. He felt naked before her; he dreaded her answer.  
  
"None of your business," Aeryn whispered back.  
  
His anger came back full force. "None of my business! Oh, honey, you just screwed yourself saying that. It is plenty my business, for two reasons."  
  
"Oh why 'cause you can't live without me?" Aeryn said vehemently.  
  
That took John aback. "What's wrong Aeryn, are you okay?"  
  
"Of course I'm not okay, you frelling deficient. Leave me alone and don't tell anyone I'm here, not even Pilot."  
  
Crichton was feeling a little hurt but wrote it off to Peacekeeper PMS. "I couldn't tell Pilot even if I wanted to. I don't even know where Moya is!"  
  
Now it was Aeryn's turn to be taken aback. "What?"  
  
"Well, after you left, Moya got sucked through a wormhole while I was stuck outside in my poor deficient module running out of air. So, there I was, drifting in the middle of a Leviathan graveyard, alone."  
  
Aeryn steeled herself. She had to hurt John and hurt him bad. She couldn't see him die again, couldn't live through it. She couldn't afford to love him again. He needed to forget about her. Aeryn was unable to admit she was scared. How could she be worthy of him? Not only had she left, she'd gone to the resistance and had multiple recreation partners. One of whom was her commanding officer. He had to get away from her.  
  
Breathing deeply, she started twisting the knife into the heart of the man she loved. "A graveyard is where all dead things belong. You're a ghost, Crichton, a spectre. The unworthy of a honourable name. You aren't the man I loved, what great things have you done? I hate you, Crichton, for living when John died! Crichton, you're a copy, a worthless copy. You should've died, it should have been you. I hate you, leave me alone!"  
  
The look in John's eyes almost broke her heart. "What about the pregnancy?" he whispered softly.  
  
How did he know? She wondered desperately. Little did he know the kid might not even be Crichton's. Aeryn continued her tirade "What do you mean our child? It's not your child; you are nothing but a corpse to me. The fact that this child might carry your DNA sickens me. That's right, it might not even be your child! I hope it isn't. Sometimes I wonder if the universe really needs another bastard child of John Crichton."  
  
He staggered backwards almost as if it were a physical blow. Aeryn suddenly grew worried; perhaps she'd gone too far. No, this needed to be done. "Besides, I've found someone, someone that knows how to recreate. Someone who gives me what I want and knows how I want it without all the incessant chatter and nonsense, someone better than you. Leave me alone, Crichton." She saw John visibly weaken and grow pale. Aeryn grew increasingly concerned, but continued. "Goodbye." The last word seemed to slam John in the face as he took a step back.  
  
She stared into John's face, and what she saw frightened her. Not rage, pain, or sadness. Nothing was visible. His eyes, the windows into his universe, were closed; an emotionless mask was in its place. He looked empty. The only thing she saw was acceptance, and that scared her more than anything.  
  
Something grabbed her attention. His hands were shaking. The human seemed to be shivering. A small line of blood seeped down the side of his right ear. Concern blossomed. What was wrong with him? What didn't she know?  
  
His voice brought her out of her line of thought. His eyes were lowered gazing downward. It seemed as a giant weight had been dropped upon his shoulders. John's voice cracked and came out as a whisper. The sound of every carefully spoken word almost made Aeryn drop to her knees in agony. "I'm sorry for all I've done to you. You have no idea how sorry. I know you would've been so happy if you hadn't stood up for me, you'd be the happy peacekeeper you always wanted to be. The illusion you had as a peacekeeper is better than the reality you have now. I'm so sorry for that, nothing is worse then shattering an illusion that makes one happy," a single tear dropped from his left eye. "I'll do what all good ghosts do. I'll disappear. Goodbye Officer Sun." Within a blink of an eye, at a speed that startled Aeryn, she was all-alone in the alley as the wind sped by. The only sound was the dripping of water from the pipes.  
  
Aeryn began to sob without restraint. She dropped to the ground as if her strings had been cut. 'Oh, what have I done, what have I done?'  
  
  
  
John wove through the streets blindly. She was right, in every way. Everything she said was damn right, and only she had the guts to tell him. So final, it pounded into his head. A headache like no other berated him, the word "Goodbye" jackhammered into his skull.  
  
He walked into an abandoned alley and steadied himself against a wall. He felt like crap, on so many levels. How could anyone feel this bad? Cold sweat poured from his body. Crichton stared at his hands, which were shaking wildly. Muscles all over his body began cramping. A sharp pain in his abdomen and chest brought him to the ground. His whole body began to vibrate and the dizziness became stronger than ever, causing extreme nausea. Blood ran from his nose and ears. John's stomach clenched and he began to throw up more of the red liquid. 'Oh man I'm gonna die. This has got to be the worst hangover in the universe. I mean gawd, getting the consequences without the sweet intoxication? Gotta admit the universe is one sick son of a bitch,' he thought. Suddenly, sweet relief came to a battered John in the form of unconsciousness as he lay on the ground slowly bleeding to death.  
  
  
  
Chiana ran around the city in a panic. "Where is the frelling human!" She yelled to no one in particular. She looked into an alley and saw a dark shape whimpering. She walked closer. "Are you alright?" Chiana asked the shadowy figure cautiously.  
  
"Chi?" a dishevelled woman croaked.  
  
Chiana got a closer look. Dark black hair, the voice was familiar. She was shocked. What had happened to her? "Aeryn? Where've you been? What's wrong?" By it owns devise the answer crept to Chiana slowly. 'Please, I hope it's not what I think it is,' she prayed silently.  
  
Aeryn looked at her sadly. "John found me and I said some extremely hurtful things. I can't see him die again, I'm not strong enough," she wiped the tears away with her sleeve. "I thought that it would keep him away, so eventually he'd find someone who deserves him more. How can I be worthy of that sort of devotion? Some of the things I said hurt him beyond my intent; I was so cruel. I think I've made a horrible mistake." She downcast her eyes again as the tears began to flow freely once more.  
  
Chiana stared stricken in panic. "Oh, no. Frell!"  
  
Aeryn looked up at her. "What?"  
  
"John's been really depressed, and I swear he's been sick the last few days."  
  
Aeryn shuddered. "Depressed? How depressed?"  
  
Chiana looked at her grimly. "I'd keep him away from a pulse pistol depressed. Something always kept him from...y-you know...harming himself. I never knew what. Now...." She shrugged. "Which way did he go?"  
  
Aeryn shook her head suppressing the urge to sniffle. "I don't know. He moved so fast, so silently. I never knew he could do that. It was like he just blended into the darkness."  
  
Chiana shivered. She looked down at her comm.  
  
"Don't bother, John probably turned it off."  
  
Chi nodded. They stalked off together looking for John Crichton.  
  
  
  
In a strange twist of fate, John's comms were not turned off. In fact, Pilot's voice brought him back to consciousness. "What is it?" he groaned.  
  
Pilot's voice bellowed from the device. "Dr. Vrigo would like to speak to you. He says your diagnosis is complete."  
  
"Patch him in Pilot."  
  
The doctor suddenly replaced Pilot's voice. John nodded at the Doctor's statements, though he knew the doc couldn't see his actions. "Thanks, doc," John sighed. "Well at least not all the news today's been bad. I knew my luck had to bounce back at some point," he said, trying to lift his spirits. The attempt was miserable. "I wanna go home." A crazy desperate idea crept into his tortured mind. He rushed for his module.  
  
  
  
Chiana and Aeryn walked, searching for a sign of the human. The one they got was not promising. On the ground was a pool of blood, red blood, red human-like blood.  
  
"We don't know that's Crichton's; that could be anybody's. Let's hurry up and find him, and he'll be okay, wait and see." Chiana stammered as she ran off.  
  
Aeryn nodded quietly and ran after her though she felt less optimistic.  
  
Something John said earlier surfaced to the forefront of Chi's thoughts. "I wanna go home," she whispered.  
  
Aeryn looked at her strangely. "What?"  
  
"That's something John told me earlier when he was asleep. What if he's going to try to get home?"  
  
"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" Aeryn asked confused.  
  
"You don't understand. He has no idea what the frell he's doing, he's going to end up killing himself and for some reason I have the feeling he wouldn't care if that happened." Chiana explained her voice sounding strangled.  
  
"You came here in his module didn't you?" Aeryn asked growing increasingly worried.  
  
Chi only nodded. They ran towards the parked module as fast as they could. They arrived just in time to see the module shoot off into the sky. Tears materialized on Chiana's cheeks. Together they slumped to the ground in defeat. Chiana beat the ground with her fist, her mounting. To Aeryn's complete surprise, the little grey Nebari moved close to her ear and whispered icily, "If Crichton dies, I will kill you." Aeryn knew Chiana meant it.  
  
  
  
John sat in his module, fully exhilarated. One of his only joys left to him in the universe was to be able to fly. Despite the pounding and insults his module had received John loved it, now he loved more than anything else, it was the only thing he allowed himself to love anymore. He commed Pilot, "Hey Mother Teresa, I have to be...leaving now," Crichton said gently, struggling to find the words, what else could he say?  
  
"Why Commander Crichton?"  
  
John started to tear up. "There's nothing left for me here anymore. If you'll tell the others to look in my quarters, they'll find data recordings for everyone, even you. Thank you for everything, Pilot. I'll miss you very much. Goodbye," John said, quivering, fearing to say anymore.  
  
Pilot's voice answered him sadly; she could and would not do anything to stop him. "Goodbye, John."  
  
John smiled silently to himself at the use of his first name. He placed his module in orbit. "Time to rock and roll." He put the module to full throttle. Where'd he'd end up, he didn't know. Dead most likely -- burning up in the atmosphere was highly probable. The chances of a wormhole opening up were astronomical at best. Opening one and getting home was impossible. But honestly, what did he have to lose?  
  
  
  
Chiana and Aeryn looked up into the silent sky. They saw something streak across the heavens. They saw it come around again leaving behind a fiery trail. Suddenly, something amazing occurred. A blue flash temporarily blinded them. Then the streak disappeared. Chiana and Aeryn stared silently, wishing and hoping. "Goodbye John," Chiana murmured sadly. Standing up suddenly she shouted, "I love you John!" The grey Nebari fell back down to the ground with a thud. She continued to stare at the sky.  
  
  
  
A blue flash exploded in front of John. 'Oh my god. It worked,' he thought, surprised. Then he remembered his last few wormhole trips. "Ah crap I hate this part!" He screamed. John's stomach wretched as the module flew in and burst forward at impossible speeds leaving Crichton plastered into his seat as the g forces pushed his sickly body. Rattlers vibrated in his stomach. The module tumbled over and sideways out of control. "OH SHIT!!!!" screamed John as he passed out. His last thoughts were if he'd ever find home. 


	5. Painful Awakenings

Chapter 5: Painful Awakenings  
  
"Urggh!" John groaned. "I feel like dren." His brain seemed to have been liquefied, leaving him dizzy, disoriented, nauseous, and in general extremely cranky. He struggled to keep himself conscious. At last his head finally cleared...somewhat. With the sudden abatement of some of his discomfort, he opened his eyes slowly. His gaze took him straight down the barrel of a pulse pistol.  
  
John's body went straight into action. Moving with the speed of a coiled viper, he pushed the gun away from his face and to the side. Then, grabbing the assailant's arm, he pulled forward so the head would connect with his waiting elbow. A sickening thud rewarded his efforts. He grabbed the pulse pistol and jumped on his captor's chest, pinning the arms to the ground. A groan escaped from below.  
  
Crichton's blurred vision finally began to focus. Long raven black hair lay dishevelled above the woman's face. John asked weakly, "Aeryn?" A small bit of blood trailed down a cut from her forehead where his elbow had impacted. "Oh shit, Aeryn, I'm so sorry, really, really, really sorry," he said, surprised, as he jumped up from her body and moved to the other end of the room.  
  
Aeryn slowly got up. This was not John Crichton. John Crichton couldn't have beaten her as easily as if she were a first year trainee. She felt the cut above her brow but ignored the pain. The impostor sat at the corner of the cell. He looked ill; his face was not the normal colour of the human, much more pale. His eyes were sunken and blood shot. The openness on John's face was no longer present; a mask seemed to block his emotions. It felt eerie.  
  
She tapped her comms. "Our guest is awake, but he managed to disarm me. Come prepared." Aeryn whispered. She looked back at John, or at least fake John.  
  
"I'm not deaf Sunshine, I have ears," Crichton said quietly, he pointed at one to make a point. He then looked at the pistol in his hand. Suddenly he shook his head and tossed the gun at her. She caught it in mid-air and started to point it at him, but a warning look in his eye made her change her mind quickly. She holstered it instead. John grinned at her. "Sorry Sunshine, I'm just sick and tired of having a gun pointed at my face all the time," he said with a laugh. It made Aeryn shiver.  
  
Crichton walked over to the golden lattice cell doors. Finally beginning to take in his surroundings, he noticed the whole room was golden and he felt life pulse through the walls. It was too steady and the room too bright to be Elack. What he did know was that he was on a Leviathan. "Aeryn, where the hell am I?" he asked, hearing his own breath quicken.  
  
"You're in a prison cell," she answered coldly. Her stern expression sent chills down his spine. Too many bad memories started with that look.  
  
"No kidding, I'm used to the sight by now. I mean, where the hell am I?"  
  
He didn't seem to know, and that fact worried her. "You're on Moya."  
  
She heard John laugh. "Nice joke."  
  
Looking at him stonily she replied, "I'm not joking."  
  
He suddenly looked at her pulse pistol as if he were starting to regret giving it back. She heard him mutter something. It sounded like, "No more mind games, I am sick of getting frelled with." The obvious distress in his voice confused her. 'He's just a trick, one of Crais' tricks,' she thought, not wanting to think of the alternative.  
  
Footsteps echoed through the corridors. John felt confused; he could tell each member of Moya's crew simply by the footsteps they made, but these were unfamiliar. They were soft, but determined. He looked up questioningly at Aeryn. Her firm gaze burned through him until he had to look away. Her eyes were lasers that burrowed through his skull. It felt really chilly all of a sudden.  
  
The strange footsteps got louder until a Sebacean appeared. He slowly looked upward; right away he noticed a rather large pulse rifle. Swallowing loudly he finally saw her face. She had long blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail. Her generous face now seemed determined and a little angry. "Gilina," he whispered.  
  
Aeryn watched the reaction on John's face as Gilina appeared. He visibly paled, a difficult feat to accomplish due to his already pale face. Then it turned red with anger.  
  
"Frell you Scorpy! Frell you Ancients! Frell you Scarrans! Frell everybody! Frell the damn person who's screwin' with me this time!" he yelled at the ceiling. Laughter, a sickly bitter laughter, escaped from his lips. "I'm sick of playin' games," John hissed as he moved around the room. "How 'bout this game." He lifted his arms. "Look at me, I'm a ballerina," he said with a maniacal laugh as he twirled around. Stopping in front of Aeryn, he grabbed her hands and lead them spiralling across the room.  
  
She fought against him, but his grip was tight and she couldn't break free. Swinging around as wildly as she was, it was hard enough to keep upright.  
  
Crichton looked at her with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. "Think I'm crazy yet? I do. I already have one foot through the door in loony-bin city," he whispered in her ear with a twisted grin.  
  
"John?" Gilina said from behind the grate.  
  
John's grin disappeared. Yelping, he jumped into a corner, cradling his knees and burying his head. Rocking back and forth, he kept muttering "Stop doing this to me, stop it, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real." He repeated it over and over again like a mantra.  
  
Aeryn watched the sweat roll off his forehead. In a frightening moment, he started to shake profusely. Then, to her horror, John fell to his side clutching his stomach as he started to cough out blood. With John convulsing, Aeryn quickly went to her comm. "Zhaan! Come down here, we need your immediate assistance."  
  
"I'll be there soon," came the response.  
  
Aeryn looked back down worriedly at Crichton. Gilina palmed open the door and rushed to John's side, trying to steady him. He looked into her eyes and smiled. John's eyes looked faded, a dulled version of his normally sparkling blue, and with a last breath he whispered, "I'm also sick of falling unconscious." Then his eyes lost focus and rolled into the back of his head. He lay there shaking on the floor, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth with a frightened Gilina holding him to her firmly.  
  
  
  
John felt like shit. 'Naw, shit don't feel this bad,' he thought wryly. 'When did my live begin to get so screwed, to the point where I always feel miserable? Oh frell it, I feel too much like crap to care where my life went wrong.' Finishing his inner monologue he tried to remember what happened but his head felt like an attic that hadn't been cleaned out in centuries. Cobwebs clouded his mind. Suddenly a small light shone through a crack in the webbing. He remembered everything; a groan escaped his lips.  
  
Something warm and moist was draped over his forehead. 'I don't even wanna know what the hell that is.' Being Crichton, though, he naturally couldn't resist finding out. Big mistake. Pain shot through his arm, making him wince and grunt in pain. He slowly placed his arm down. 'Damn my blasted curiosity, won't try that again,' he thought. The sound of voices registered in his ears, but his brain was to clogged to process any sound.  
  
Curious to find what dangerous and life-threatening predicament he was in -- again -- he cracked open an eyelid. He quickly regretted it; blinding white light attacked his senses. He shut his eye to the painful brightness. Dark was good, dark was familiar.  
  
John creaked his eyes open again. Blinking away tears that blurred his vision but soothed his irritated eyes, he waited for them to adjust. He could make out shapes, but they were out of focus and he was probably seeing in triplicate. Slowly, one by one, each face seemed to swirl into focus.  
  
Blood rushed out of his face and into his toes. The temperature in the room dropped about fifty degrees. He gasped and tried to crawl backwards, but pain coursed through his body. Biting back the agony, he realized he was strapped down like a science experiment in a bad sci-fi movie.  
  
Crichton fought against the restraints with all his will. He attacked them wildly like a caged animal, which in a sense, he was. Feeling hands trying to hold him down he started to thrash around. "Not real, no more, no more!" Tears started to stream down the side of his face. "No more, no frelling more," he whimpered as he stopped struggling.  
  
Three faces looked down at him, two in concern, and one in confusion. One blue and normally serene face with a frown, a blond with fear in her eyes, and a man with shortly cropped brown hair and blue eyes. The faces belonged to Zhaan, Gilina, and the third belonged to himself. With a sigh John thought, 'Oh not that shit again.' But then another thought suddenly occurred to him.  
  
A weak laugh came through with effort. "Oh good, I'm dead, when do I get to meet God? I'd like to cram my foot up his ass for screwin' around with me. Nobody messes with a Crichton," he bellowed, boasting lamely. A sharp stabbing pain shot through his already throbbing arm. Unexpectedly feeling extremely fatigued, John closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep unsatisfying sleep. At least there weren't any dreams.  
  
  
  
A few arns later Zhaan stared at the sleeping creature -- or human, she should say. She looked back up at the John that was still conscious.  
  
"Hey Blue, what is this, another of Crais' tricks or something? I mean, if it is, it's damn stupid. Come on, he's still wearing peacekeeper leather. Though if it is Capt'n Crunch, I wouldn't put anything past him." He wondered, confused.  
  
Gilina kept staring at the limp body on the table, face impassive. Zhaan looked back down. "He's human, and he's definitely you. The DNA is identical. Many other small marks and codes in his gene structure are also exactly the same. Not even Crais has the ability to do this. He also shares the same identifying features, such as childhood scars and birthmarks." She shook her head in frustration. "I have no idea what has occurred here."  
  
Gilina looked up suddenly. "It couldn't be Crais; we haven't seen him in over a cycle. He's far away, with no way of tracking us."  
  
"I checked out his module. It's an exact duplicate of mine, everything almost the same, though his does seem to have seen a lot more action. There are differences, mostly minor, but did you know he can catch peacekeeper signals on that thing? Hot dog, with that we can track peacekeepers and make sure we keep the hell away!" John exclaimed with his southern drawl.  
  
Suddenly, with renewed interest, he looked back at the almost-mirror image of himself. "Hey Blue, could he be from the future or something? I mean, jeez! I don't look that old, do I?"  
  
Zhaan shook her head. "No, he's your age exactly, but he does seem a lot more haggard. He also has many more scars located throughout his body. From some of the scans I've run, it looks as if he's gone through some past serious trauma."  
  
Gilina walked over to one of the walls and leaned against it. "What caused him to get so violently ill? He seemed to go a little crazy when he saw me; he mumbled something about not being real. Then he started dancing with Aeryn. I mean, he was insane." She looked up, hearing John start laughing. "What?"  
  
"Nothin', honey, but you should know by now I'm crazy when it comes to you, darlin'. And seeing Aeryn dance? Hell, I'd pay to see that!" John spoke with mirth dancing in his gaze.  
  
Gilina gave him an evil smile. "I'll remember to tell her that."  
  
John's face immediately paled. "But now that you mention it," he said, changing the subject, "he also seemed a bit freaked at seeing Zhaan. Me, I'd understand, but he dismissed me right away. I know I would've caused more commotion. Hell, I did when I was told about him."  
  
Walking over to him, Gilina punched him in the shoulder playfully. "Maybe you're just not that interesting." He pouted and gave her a hurt look.  
  
John looked back down at his counterpart. "We still don't know how he got here. For all we know, he might be from an alternate universe or something." Suddenly he shook his head. "Nah, that's impossible he doesn't have a goatee." The other two present stared at him as if he were brain dead.  
  
The body on the table creaked open an eye. "Well, I'm no Mr. Spock if that's what you're getting at," the John on the table slurred. Then his eyes closed again and he started mumbling about something called Star Trek and green women.  
  
The two females present stared at the sleeping Crichton in shock with a tinge of the 'human nonsense' look. Fully conscious Crichton just looked spooked. "Definitely not from Crais," he whispered slowly.  
  
  
  
The next day, Crichton woke up. He looked around nervously, nobody in sight. Getting up slowly, he managed to stand. 'I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, but man am I sore.' He rotated his left arm to get rid of any knots and get used to the pain. Realizing he was no longer wearing a shirt, he looked around the med bay. At last he found his black shirt stuffed underneath a workbench of sorts. 'D'Argo was right, green was never my colour.' Placing the shirt on gradually so he wouldn't aggravate anything, he took note of his surroundings. The bay seemed unchanged from when Zhaan was alive; none of Jool's personal touches were present. Curious. Feeling adventurous, John decided to do a little exploring.  
  
Feeling naked with it missing, he started the search for Winona, his ever- trusty pulse pistol. Moving cautiously John slipped into the air ducts, hoping to escape detection from whomever it was that happened to run the show. The claustrophobic crawlspace was dark, cold, and damp, definitely not Club Med. Suppressing a shiver, Crichton moved towards a storage room.  
  
Hearing voices, he cocked his ear in order to hear better.  
  
"What in Hezmana are we going to do with him?" grumbled an annoyed D'Argo.  
  
"Make him tell us what he knows by any means necessary," replied everyone's favourite ex-Peacekeeper.  
  
John rolled his eyes. "Thanks Aeryn, much appreciated," he muttered sarcastically.  
  
"I'm not sure the others would like that. John seems infatuated with this discovery, and Zhaan is convinced that whatever it is, it's not a peacekeeper plot," argued D'Argo.  
  
"How about we pay him a visit to see what he's really doing here?" Aeryn suggested darkly. Turning around, she headed back towards the med bay.  
  
Shrugging, D'Argo followed. "Hope she doesn't kill him before I get there."  
  
Crichton winced. "Oh dren. This is bad, very bad. I guess it's time to drop into Aeryn's quarters."  
  
Falling on Aeryn's bed with a crash, he looked around cautiously. The room was characteristically Spartan except for, to John's delight, a very familiar pulse pistol on a worktable. Kissing it loudly, he disappeared back into the shrouded ducts feeling more at one with himself.  
  
  
  
"Where the frell is he!" Aeryn yelled angrily.  
  
D'Argo growled throatily.  
  
"Pilot! Where's Crichton?" the ex-PK hissed into her comm. badge.  
  
"In his quarters, sleeping."  
  
"The other Crichton!" an annoyed D'Argo bellowed.  
  
"Other Crichton? He's missing? Ah, here we go, a DRD has spotted him in Aeryn's room."  
  
"What! I'll rip out his mivonks!"  
  
  
  
"What! I'll rip out his mivonks!" was what a very unmoving Crichton heard.  
  
"Dren, can it get any worse?" Groaning loudly he exclaimed, "I did not just say that!" Suddenly, a tiny little yellow bolt of light whizzed by his right shoulder. "Whoa, too close," cried a surprised John.  
  
Blasting the duct bottom out from under him, he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. "That can't be healthy," he muttered to himself. Picking out pieces of metal embedded in his arms, he gathered himself together and started running down the corridor for his life. Lucky for him he had a lot of previous experience in the endeavour.  
  
A very large oval-shaped door shut right in front of Crichton, providing him with a dead end ahead and a large Luxan with an angry Sebacean female behind. "Talk about a rock and a hard place," he muttered to himself. Pulling out a grate, he started to fiddle with a few wires. "Alright, is it the green or the blue?" He rolled his eyes. "Famous last words. Here goes nothing." Sparks showered the deck as he tugged on both wires. The door creaked and opened only a small slit. "You have got to be kidding me," he groaned loudly.  
  
  
  
Walking cautiously Aeryn reached the end of the passageway. The exit was open a small crack. "Frell. D'Argo, he passed through to the next tier."  
  
A rumbling voice came through the comms. "I'll go around and try to head him off."  
  
"Right, I'll follow him." Calling Pilot to open the exit, Aeryn soundlessly went on the hunt.  
  
  
  
Letting out a huge sigh John dropped from the ceiling. "They never seem to look up," he mumbled. Running in the opposite direction, he stretched out his aching muscles, which had been locked in an unnatural position for a little too long. Somehow, quite stupidly, Crichton ended up outside the terrace.  
  
A faint silhouette was outlined by the miraculous brightness of the white sun shining in through the membrane. It surrounded her like an aura, her blonde hair outlining her face like a halo. Stopping and unable to move, John watched as the figure turned around and gave him a beautiful smile. "Gilina," he said silently.  
  
Rushing over to him, her soft, sweet-tasting lips touched his as she held him in an embrace. It was incredible, but then the memories came.  
  
The vision before him turned lifeless, cold, pale, and dead. Pushing away, he drew out his gun and pointed it at her chest.  
  
"John?" she squeezed out, frightened.  
  
"Stay back. Please!" John pleaded desperately. His hand shook unsteadily. Somehow his senses caught Aeryn's voice. Snapping out of his daze, with tears running freely, he looked at his gun in horror. "What did I almost do?" he asked himself shakily. Dropping it as if it were a snake, he ran away as fast as his tired legs could take him.  
  
How far gone was he? He had almost taken her life. "Who am I?" John asked himself. "Who have I become?" Looking down at his hands, he almost saw the unwashed blood of all the deaths he had caused. So much death.  
  
"I was a scientist, damn it, a scientist!" he shouted. John dropped to his knees. "What am I now?"  
  
Suddenly turning around, he saw Aeryn. Then he saw a very large boot heading for his head. Everything went black, but only for a moment. Visions of his life swirled around in his head; what he'd done, how he'd acted, all visible to him like something on pay-per-view. The pictures ran through, never ending.  
  
The scenes of his life made Crichton realize he had nothing to live for anymore. All his hope, he finally understood, was imaginary. Nothing he had ever wanted would come true. He had no life preserver to hold onto, and nothing to keep him from drowning in the icy pit of despair. He had run on hope for so long, but the last few cycles had chipped away at it, spitting and stomping it to the ground.  
  
Only Aeryn's face was real, pain was the only feeling left. The man he had been, what he had endured, they were gone now. He didn't remember; the last chip of sanity that he had lived on was destroyed. He only knew screams, blood, tears, pain, and Aeryn's face. But sweet release was coming, coming soon, he remembered that much at least. Unable to even remember his own name, John was released into darkness. 


	6. Paradise Lost

Chapter 6: Paradise Lost  
  
Aeryn trained hard. The whole ordeal with the other Crichton had frustrated her. Everyone was avoiding her. He was a spy, a frelling spy! Why in hezmana did they care? She jabbed her dummy hard. He was going to betray them all; she was doing them a favour! The impostor almost killed Gilina.  
  
She heard footsteps coming her way. "You hurt him really bad, Aeryn. He still hasn't woken up." The Sebacean accent gave away the speaker's identity.  
  
"He brought it upon himself," retorted Aeryn.  
  
"He was done after the first kick, and you continued like an animal. Could you do that to the rest of us? What's wrong with your fabled Peacekeeper commando control?" Gilina asked harshly.  
  
Aeryn barked, "I don't know!"  
  
"Maybe you should see him."  
  
"What would that accomplish?"  
  
Gilina shrugged. "You tell me."  
  
  
  
"What's wrong with him?" D'Argo growled.  
  
Zhaan sighed. "I don't know. He won't wake, and there is nothing physically wrong with him, nothing new at any rate. My scans show his brain activity has heightened, but as to what that means, I can't be sure. He appears to have buried himself deeper within his mind."  
  
John looked up at her. "So essentially, he's comatose."  
  
Zhaan nodded sadly.  
  
"Is there a way to bring him out of it?" Gilina asked.  
  
Zhaan could only shrug. "I don't know."  
  
Suddenly, John's eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers in excitement. "I may have an idea." He leaned over to Zhaan and whispered something into her ear.  
  
Zhaan nodded reluctantly. "It may work, but I'm uncertain. I'll need time to prepare."  
  
When everyone walked out, Gilina asked "What did you suggest John?"  
  
He winked at her and replied, "Something about unity, darlin'."  
  
Gilina rolled her eyes; she never understood what the frell he was talking about most of the time. Everyone left the room.  
  
  
  
During the sleep cycle an unknown shape in the dark sat down next to the unconscious human. Lovingly caressing his brow, she started talking to him. Telling him her secrets and insecurities, her joys and sadness. Then she was gone and once again John Crichton was alone, in the dark.  
  
  
  
The next day Zhaan sat, eyes closed in prayer and meditation. John and Gilina were standing behind her, ready in case something went wrong. She took a deep breath and grabbed the comatose body of John Crichton, placing her hands on his head. Gathering her spiritual energies, she touched her head to his.  
  
She felt herself getting pulled into his mind. Almost there, her mind so close to touching his, she could sense his life essence. 'Wait, something's wrong,' she thought in a panic and then an explosion of blue light filled her senses.  
  
Opening her eyes, she felt disoriented. Sitting in a metal contraption, she noticed she was in a whitewashed room. In the centre was a table, wooden, with rectangular pieces of paper covered in pictures of Sebaceans -- no, humans, she corrected herself -- strewn about. She picked one up and looked at it curiously, until an odd silky voice that sent a chill down her spine caught her attention.  
  
"Magazines, they are called. Interesting things, really. Too bad John didn't read more of them."  
  
Zhaan looked at her mysterious companion in John's mind. A shadowy figure covered in black leather sat in the corner. His face was greyish and wrinkly; a leather mask covered his head, all except for his mouth and eyes. "Who are you?" Zhaan asked cautiously.  
  
"I'm Harvey."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Harvey looked at her incredulously. "Quite an odd thing to ask. Someone placed me here a long time ago. He looks a lot like me, or so I'm told. By the way, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Harvey said.  
  
The whole statement, especially the last part, took Zhaan aback. "What makes you say that?"  
  
Harvey moved closer to her, curious. "You don't know? Hmm, interesting. No matter. Do you know where you are?"  
  
Zhaan nodded "John's mind, but how? Unity doesn't work this way."  
  
Harvey shrugged. "I wouldn't know. John's planted so many defences to keep people out; I don't even know them all. Honestly, I can't say I blame him." He looked around the room. "This is what is called a waiting room, where people wait before appointments. You will be able to see John soon, but first I must attempt to dissuade you."  
  
Zhaan shifted nervously. "Stop me, but why? John will die if he stays this way, and if he dies, I'm fairly certain you die too."  
  
Harvey nodded solemnly. "It's true, but I'm no longer in control. This is John's mind, and he wants to stay. You don't understand; he's made a paradise in here, a place where he's happy. Do you know when he was last happy, truly happy?" he asked.  
  
Zhaan only shook her head.  
  
Harvey smiled sadly. "Neither does he. I care for him now; you really get to feel for this person after awhile. I'm not the same neural clone I once was; my wanderings into his mind have changed me forever. Leave him be, let him have his happiness. It's the least he deserves."  
  
Zhaan was shocked by the heartfelt words coming from this thing. She shook her head furiously. "No, he will die if I do nothing."  
  
Harvey sighed most uncharacteristically, "Perhaps he'll die anyway. If I show you what he's done here, you may decide to change your mind." The room swirled and disappeared into a long dark narrow hallway, completely black. Harvey motioned for her to follow, and she fell into step behind him.  
  
A brilliantly bright golden door caught her attention. "What is that?" she asked.  
  
He only shrugged, exactly like the human. "It's a neural block over a part of his mind. What it blocks, I have no idea. I've never seen a wall so strong; there must be a large secret hidden behind that door, something he doesn't want anyone to see."  
  
Zhaan moved over to it and placed a hand cautiously over the door. She screamed as pain shot through her arm and snaked across her body. She withdrew it quickly and the feeling subsided, leaving only a slight tingle. Harvey only looked at her disapprovingly. "You should know better." He chided her, and then walked off. Zhaan moved to follow.  
  
"Here we are," announced the clone, rubbing his hands together. The surroundings changed. Wind blew the shift Zhaan was wearing tightly to her body. A cry from a flying creature turned her eyes skyward. She looked back down at the sand beneath her feet that easily gave way. Crashing noises from the surf startled her. An ocean, which seemed to span on forever, was spread out before her. Long tall trees stood up lazily.  
  
The colours around her were so vibrant, and so...colourful, for the lack of a better term. "He's enhancing the colours unconsciously. It brings much more life to the scene don't you think? Those palm trees are also a nice touch. Look how blue the water is, it's almost unreal. This is how he sees his home," Harvey commented. It was unbelievably beautiful and bright. Everything felt as if it were more, almost as if it were a higher reality, someplace more real. "It's breathtaking," Zhaan said, she didn't know what else to say.  
  
A small wooden house of a light brownish-gold colour greeted her. It was slightly farther down the beach, but not too far. She walked towards it.  
  
Harvey pointed. "Look over there. It's him."  
  
Zhaan's superior eyesight caught John laughing and smiling in genuine bliss. She saw his expression change to mock horror as he ran down the beach giggling. A tall, slender figure seemed to take chase, long black hair floating in the wind. "Aeryn?" Zhaan wondered. Harvey nodded.  
  
"He loves her, more than anything. Without her, he feels incomplete, a shadow. I have no idea why. I think he's an idiot, but of course no one cares what I think," Harvey rolled his eyes unconsciously. "He'd do everything and anything for her; has done everything for her, and still she rejects him, even to the very end. He can't take any more. If only you could understand...so lonely, so lonely," Harvey whispered trailing off.  
  
Zhaan looked at John again. His smile seemed to radiate the surrounding area. She had to steel herself to her purpose; he had to come back alive. "What about Gilina?" she asked.  
  
"Dead." Harvey responded. "Long time dead. Saving him." Shaking his head Harvey asked, "Do you think that taking him back is the right thing to do? Look at him! Can you honestly tell me the real world is a better place?" Zhaan shook her head. "No, but it has to be done, it's where he belongs," she said, more to convince herself then the leather clad monstrosity.  
  
She then broke into a run, chasing after Crichton. John stopped and looked at her strangely. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm here to bring you back," she replied.  
  
John's eyes widened. "You're real?" Shaking his head furiously he screamed, "No! I'm not going back. I don't want to." It sounded like a tantrum of a child.  
  
"This isn't real, John; it's all in your mind," Zhaan explained.  
  
"Despite what you think, Zhaan, I'm not an idiot. I know that, but I don't care! I like it here, Zhaan. It's the first time I've liked it somewhere for a long time. Leave me alone. Please, Zhaan," begged John. He twirled around to run, but Zhaan was quicker. She grabbed him and embraced him.  
  
Placing her hands to his head, she touched their heads together. Dark thunderous clouds appeared in the sky and the wind hit hurricane force. Rain and lightening pelted down to the ground in a torrent of destruction. The sounds were deafening. The water rose and huge waves crashed into the rocks, pounding them with unmatched force. The ground shook violently, started to crack. The sky sudden ripped apart in an awesome and horrible explosion. The lightening ignited the sky as a raging inferno crossed the sky. The trees became ashes and the water transformed into blood. The world around them suddenly swirled around, it became a whirlpool of destruction and they were at the centre. Slowly, at first, the world began to collapse in on itself. Then the most horrific scream sounded. "NOOOO!" John shrieked desperately, it didn't even sound remotely human.  
  
Suddenly, as if a damn burst, images blasted into Zhaan's mind. Wormhole, Aurora Chair, Gilina dying, Aeryn dead, herself dying, blood, pain, twinning, coldness, loneliness, hope, defeat, "you're nothing but a ghost," images, sounds -- they flooded her mind, making her relive his life. An old man looked down upon her, and she told the old man, "When I grow up, I'm going to go to the stars and be the best astronaut ever!" The old man smiled at her and looked back up at the sky to a place faraway.  
  
The hurricane that was John's life washed over and bathed her. Such strength, such kindness, such agony. She saw it all in its painful entirety.  
  
Then it was gone. She realized she was on the med bay floor, lying in a fetal position like a crumpled tin can. Zhaan felt a pair of strong arms picking her up and cradling her. "Shush, it's going to be okay, don't worry," the strong voice told her. She realized she was crying and shaking, but the strong arms protected her, they were walls to keep the monsters at bay. Her sobs were loud, even to her own ears. Tears streamed down in an endless river. But the arms rocked her and made her feel safe, no longer alone; someone cared.  
  
She hugged one of the arms that held her and looked up into the teary face of John Crichton. "I'm so sorry, I didn't understand, I'm so very sorry. I was wrong, so very wrong," she wailed, hurt and ashamed at what she had done. Zhaan had done what so many others had done; she had raped his mind, made his memories her own, forcefully. The pain she felt now was but a slight sliver of what Crichton was feeling. How could he even look upon her? She didn't feel worthy.  
  
A sad smile crossed his cracked, bloodstained lips. She couldn't understand him, why was he like this? Why didn't he hurt her or at least scream and shout? Why was he so kind? Gently John wiped her tears away with a finger. "Don't cry Zhaan, it doesn't matter. I didn't deserve it anyway. I'm just a ghost. Just a ghost," he whispered, giving her a broad smile that shone on her like a sunrise, which for Zhaan had special meaning. She cried harder. "Everything will be alright, shush now," he reassured her.  
  
  
  
Gilina looked in through the darkness watching Zhaan looking completely devastated. 'What's wrong?' She wondered. The previously unconscious John was awake and holding Zhaan like a small child. She saw Zhaan shaking visibly from her grief. Gilina watched them like that for a least twenty microts, words passing between them she couldn't catch. The ancient blue priest suddenly closed her eyes and John gently placed her upon a cot. After caressing Zhaan's face with a feather touch, he walked out, erect with purpose, trying to look strong for prying eyes. Gilina took this as a heartening sign. She pulled a strand of her blond hair away from her eyes and chased after him silently.  
  
Walking slowly, she crouched low and moved so her footsteps were noiseless. She rounded a corner that she saw John pass only a moment before. He was gone. Disappeared, like a wraith. Gilina kept looking around for him, but without success. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she walked down the rarely used halls.  
  
A strange noise caught her attention. Cocking her ear, she tried to figure out what it was. Following the sound, she found herself standing outside a small, dimly lit cell. Within it was the outline of John Crichton, Saviour of the Universe, Destroyer of Evil, and all around Good Guy, slumped against the wall with his head in his hands, rambling to himself in a whisper. His eyes were tearless -- the well the tears had come from had dried up -- but the eyes-- those blue hopeful eyes were haunted and sunken in.  
  
Looking up at her, a frown flickered across his features. Forcing a smile, he spoke. "Hey."  
  
The voice was cracked with sorrow. Gilina couldn't stop herself; she rushed over to him and held him close. "What happened to you?" she whispered tearfully, his mood was infectious.  
  
Crichton smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nothing did anymore, except agony, a word that had become synonymous with his name. " You mean in general or just now? Let's see, I got tortured in many different ways, some intentional, some not. Happens all the time. I'd probably be lost without it; if it didn't happen, I'd be worried something was terribly wrong with the universe. Nothing tells you your alive than a good ole' fashion mind rape."  
  
Gilina was horrified of the coldness in his voice.  
  
"Oh, yeah, and I was also just ripped from the most perfect dream in my entire life, a dream I would have been happy to disappear in," John said with a faraway look in his eye. "Happy," he muttered.  
  
"But Crichton, it wouldn't be real. What's great about being in a dream knowing none of it exists?" Gilina asked.  
  
John laughed humourlessly. "REAL!" he spat. "What is real? Real is waking up one day after another, running for my life, having people who want to kill me appear everywhere. Real is having people I care about leave me or die. Real is being beaten, putdown, tortured, and mind frelled. Real is never being happy. Real is having my humanity ripped away, piece by piece. Real is being alone."  
  
He had started at a yell, but his rant had died slowly into a barely audible whisper. The poor tortured man looked her in the eye. Gilina could do no more than swallow loudly, his eyes were frightening. "You know when the last time I was truly happy?" Gilina could only shake her head. His haunted gaze moved away from her face. "Neither do I."  
  
"I'm sorry for what has been done to you, but you're not alone now, not anymore."  
  
Crichton looked up at her strangely. "Yes I am, now more than ever."  
  
"But I'm here."  
  
He shook his head. "You aren't here for my sake, you're here for John Crichton, and that's who you should go see."  
  
Gilina blinked. "Who are you then?"  
  
John gave her a small smile that did nothing to brighten his face. "A ghost." And with that, he walked out of the cell.  
  
  
  
Gilina spent the next couple of arns walking around the empty halls of Moya, thinking about what Crichton had said. Eventually she found herself in the terrace, looking upon the back of John. He was groomed, well kept, and his eyes were wide with awe, wonder, and contentment. This was her John.  
  
"Hey," she said. He looked up at her and smiled. A real smile that made his eyes glow. She felt herself melt. John looked so...human, and she loved that about him. She prayed to any deity that would listen that he would never become like the tortured soul that wandered the abandoned halls of Moya.  
  
Her worry found its way to John. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
Gilina sighed and walked over, placing herself in his waiting arms. "It's the other John," she admitted.  
  
He tried to hide it, but she saw his wince. She rubbed his arm reassuringly. "He looks completely beaten, and not just physically. When he woke, Zhaan was apologizing and crying so hard it was heartbreaking. He assured her of something and placed her in bed. But when I talked to him, he seemed withdrawn. Something is really wrong with him, and I'm worried. He might do something to harm himself."  
  
John looked into her eyes and touched her face. "He won't do anything, he's stronger than that. He's a Crichton."  
  
Gilina wondered if that was enough. She held him closer. "I love you."  
  
He held her tighter. "I love you, too."  
  
  
  
Zhaan stood in command with all the others. Crichton was in the corner, seeming to blend in with the shadow. Her whole spirit ached for him; he had lost more than she could believe. He also lost the most precious thing he'd owned in the universe, his sense of humour. She also knew the terrible secret that hid behind that neural block. She would try her best to comfort him, but there was little she or anyone could do.  
  
"He is John Crichton. Not a spy or peacekeeper trick of any sort, this I can say with utter certainty," Zhaan announced.  
  
No one seemed surprised, though Aeryn's cheeks lost a tiny bit of colour. John's gaze was aimed directly at the back of her head, of which Aeryn was painfully aware. Zhaan looked away from the scene.  
  
"Surprise, surprise," he muttered from the corner.  
  
The other Crichton raised an eyebrow. "Then how the hell did you get here?"  
  
John snorted. "One really frelled-up wormhole. I was trying to get back to Earth, after.ah.a rough encounter. I had nothing to lose. Though, on the other hand, I really had nothing to gain either. Don't know what I was thinking, I just had to get away," he replied, but he seemed very far away. It took all of Zhaan's strength not to rush over and comfort him; she knew of what incident he spoke.  
  
"You were trying to get home?" Gilina asked.  
  
John chuckled. "I never said that. I said I was trying to get to Earth."  
  
Everyone looked puzzled, even the other John. "Then where is your home?" Aeryn hissed suspiciously.  
  
The shadowy figure in the corner flinched visibly. It took all of Zhaan's willpower not to strangle Aeryn; she could be unconsciously callous at times. His voice replied, somewhat cracked and a bit manic, "Home? I wonder that too, sometimes. Moya? Hah, haven't seen her in over a monen now. Earth? Yeah, right, and get locked up for the rest of my natural life. I was living on an old Leviathan who would have been dead in another monen, anyway. I don't have a home, and I stopped bothering to search for one a while ago."  
  
Nobody seemed untouched by what the human said. D'Argo, Aeryn, and even Rygel shifted uncomfortably. Gilina seemed sad, and the other John felt goose bumps.  
  
John had always lived by the motto, 'home is where the heart is'. This shadowy figure ahead of him had to as well. What happened to him? He put the question aside for a private meeting. Curious, though, he had to ask one last question, "Where did you come from?"  
  
He saw his own body shrug. "Dunno. My best guess is that a wormhole sent me to an alternate reality. Flimsy, I know, but it's the best idea I got." And with that, he walked out of the room. Everyone seemed more at ease once he was gone. Cruel, it seemed, but it was understandably uncomfortable hanging around someone who was verging on the insane.  
  
Crichton had to talk to himself. Strange to think about it, but stranger things had happened. So he went after him.  
  
  
  
John Crichton, traveler of parallel universes, was having a really shitty day. Actually, it had been a shitty week...no, wait, actually it had been a shitty couple of years.  
  
He walked onto the terrace and looked out to the stars. The beauty eluded him. The great scene that he once would've killed for was no longer provoking anything within him. Crichton felt empty, emptier then he had ever been before. He sat down, watching the universe drift by painfully slow. His earlier bouts of sickness had become easier and easier to control. The waves of illness that used to incapacitate him no longer affected him in the slightest.  
  
Footsteps echoed in the halls behind him. John couldn't place them -- they were strong, but not quite as blunt as D'Argo or purposeful like Aeryn. He smiled to himself -- whose footsteps on this ship were the ones he couldn't place? His own, of course.  
  
  
  
Crichton walked up to the terrace. Sitting there was, well, him. The body was motionless, completely still, looking out at the stars.  
  
"Hi John, come to enjoy the view?" his own voice sounded, though huskier and raspy.  
  
'How the hell did he know it was me?' John wondered. Replying almost wistfully, he said, "It takes my breath away. I usually come here to think. I would've killed for a view like this back home."  
  
The other him shrugged. "It used to do the same thing to me. Seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I stay up at night and wonder, when did things start going wrong?" Shaking his head, he asked, "How has your life been going?"  
  
John pondered it for a moment. He went over the details of his first few days. The day he met Gilina and asked her to come with him. How they fell in love and started sharing quarters. Before he knew it, all he did was talk about him and her. He told his other self how jealous he'd been when she started paying more attention to him, and that's why he'd been avoiding him. "You know, I couldn't see it. All the caring she did for you, she did because she loved me, and you are me. Well, I see it now, thank god. Now I just have to apologize. Boy, she's going to have me eating out of her hand for a long time. I'll never hear the end of it," John finished off with a smirk.  
  
"Are you happy?" the other human asked.  
  
Crichton was surprised by the abrupt question. He only had to ponder the response of a moment. "Yeah, happiest I've been in a while, I guess. I've found a woman I love, friends to help me out, and I'm the best damn astronaut there ever was. I've done things -- hell, seen things -- that no one back home has ever imagined. I am what I wanted to be, and I'm loving it." He saw his reflection drop it's head. "What happened to you, to make you into this person you've become? Is she dead?" John asked boldly.  
  
The figure sat up. "Yeah, long time dead, saving my ass. It's funny; I didn't love her; you know. She asked me, if things had been different, could I have? I guess I know the answer for sure now. She never came back with me from the Zelbinion. I never pushed, didn't want her living like us. I guess I...cared too much. Ironic, the fact that she ended up dead first because she loved me. And all because I loved someone else."  
  
Curious, John asked, "Who?"  
  
He heard a crooked laugh. "The high and mighty Aeryn Sun. I still love her, you know. Lucky me." His other self sighed softly, he then swallowed and got up. "If you want to know the rest, ask Zhaan," he said between clenched teeth. "This lollipop's down to the soggy white stick."  
  
"Just one more question," asked Crichton.  
  
The other nodded assent. "Always the inquisitive one. Shoot."  
  
"What do you want?" John asked his other self.  
  
A twisted grin answered him. His own blue eyes seemed crazed in the reflection of the man in front of him. "Who knows? I used to want to settle down, have kids, get together with Aeryn, maybe find a way home, but they're just dreams, and worthless ones at that. I guess my only wish now is to have a good day, an honest-to-god good day. Now there's going for the impossible." Finally he left the room. 


	7. Vision of Pain

Chapter 7: Vision of Pain  
  
Aeryn walked to her training room briskly. Feeling uncomfortable, the way everyone stared at her because of her treatment of Crichton, she decided to take it out on the punching bag. 'Like they were innocent. They all knew what would happen. Frelling human. Now we have two of them.'  
  
Striding into her workout room, she found John Crichton viciously attacking her punching bag. His shirt was off and sweat glistened on his chest and back. It beaded on his forehead as he tore into the bag with a ferocity she had never seen before.  
  
Welts, scars and bruises were clearly visible. A rather nasty scar near his spine seemed to move independently, snake-like, as if it were alive. At last John's brutal attack stopped. His breathing was deep and steady. Then suddenly he spoke. "Enjoying the show? Or is there another reason for you being here?" John inquired with surprisingly little bitterness.  
  
'How did he know I was here?' she wondered. Dumbstruck by his suddenness, she floundered for a response. "I came to punch the bag," Aeryn answered lamely pointing at what John had previously been attacking.  
  
"Well, go ahead. I'm spent."  
  
Crichton always made her feel foolish, and it angered her. Every frustration, every hatred, every misgiving, every embarrassment John Crichton had caused her, didn't matter which one, exploded. "Frell you Crichton!" she spat and she lunged at him.  
  
A look of cold fear split across his features until it was quickly replaced by rock hard determination. He was sick of getting beaten around, getting used as the universe's private stress ball.  
  
She swung at him, hoping to knock him out like she'd done so many times before when he annoyed her. He was ready; his arm came up, blocking the hit. Then, in a fluid motion, he moved under her arm while holding it in place and then kicked at her the backs of her knees. As planned, Aeryn's legs buckled and she hit the floor, completely confused at the turn of events. Dazed, she lay on the mat, a weight pressed upon her back.  
  
"I told you I was sick of losing consciousness," John whispered in her ear coolly. Aeryn found herself unable to get up no matter how much she struggled. Then, suddenly, the weight was lifted and Crichton had gone.  
  
Aeryn went searching for him. Finally she found him in a hallway, standing utterly still. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were tightly closed, almost as if he were in intense pain. Then, as soon as it began, it finished. His face relaxed and he let out a deep breath.  
  
Without understanding why, she rushed over to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.  
  
Crichton's normally deep blue eyes looked shallow. "When did you start caring?" he retorted harshly, but his gaze softened, looking into her eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry for what I did to you before. I thought you were going to hurt us all, and--"  
  
She was interrupted by a finger over her lips. "Don't worry about it. You did what you had to do. Though you might've taken your job a bit too seriously," he finished with a wince absently caressing his ribs.  
  
"No, Crichton, you don't understand. I hurt you, and enjoyed it, because of my frustration towards our John. I was shifting my feelings over to you, and you suffered because I lost control. I was..." Aeryn's look of discomfort was almost comical. "Wrong," she said at last.  
  
This was totally unlike Aeryn. Crichton couldn't contain himself, he laughed.  
  
"What?" she asked crossly.  
  
"Who the hell are you and what have you done to Aeryn Sun?" Crichton replied, mirth flickering within his ice-blue eyes.  
  
She responded with "the look". "Frell you, Crichton, I'm trying to apologize."  
  
A glint of humour spread across his features. "I know, I'm sorry, it's just not like you, especially to apologize to such an inferior being as myself."  
  
Grating her teeth and looking like she had the most foul of tastes in her mouth, she said, "I have come to see that you're not as inferior as I had previously believed."  
  
John's face grew grim. "Okay, seriously now, where is Aeryn Sun? Or did I hear incorrectly?"  
  
Aeryn seemed ashamed. "I have never seen a being take as much punishment as you and survive. I almost killed you."  
  
Crichton just grinned at her. "Wouldn't be the first time."  
  
Changing the subject, she asked, "Where did you learn to fight like you did?"  
  
"You taught me."  
  
She shook her head. "I had been trying to train our Crichton to fend for himself, but he never bothered. How come you did?"  
  
He shrugged. "I guess I had more of an incentive."  
  
'I bet you did,' she thought.  
  
An awkward pause settled between then. "Ah, I better go, I still have to work out," Aeryn said, deciding it was time to leave. She turned to walk away.  
  
Suddenly Crichton spoke. "Thank you."  
  
She turned around. "For what?"  
  
"For reminding me how to laugh," he said.  
  
Aeryn gave him one of her most radiant smiles, with a slight edge of irritation. "Don't mention it."  
  
He laughed inwardly at a memory long past. "Now why would I ever mention it?"  
  
Her smile broadened. "Later John." And with that, she was gone. John turned around with a grin, wondering when he turned from Crichton to John.  
  
'As days go, this is a better one than usual. Wait, shut up John, you'll jinx it,' he thought. He remembered what the other John had told him and replayed the conversation over and over. He'd have to thank him later, some of the things said had changed him, to what extent, unknown.  
  
Wandering the halls, he was looking for something to do. No ideas came to him immediately. Zhaan was still feeling horrible about what she'd done, and Gilina was confused, to say the least. Rygel wasn't any fun; D'Argo still didn't trust or feel comfortable around him, and, well, Aeryn.... He just talked to Aeryn, so he wisely decided not to tempt fate. 'Well, I guess visiting Farscape is the best idea I have.' Once in the maintenance bay, John got to work.  
  
  
  
Aeryn was confused. She hated being confused, especially about her frelling feelings. It was true she had thought of John as 'interesting.' But she suppressed those thoughts. John belonged to Gilina, but now there were two of them. Frelling human.  
  
Her frustration over Crichton had manifested itself into resentment and hate, but the new John hadn't done anything to her. She still couldn't understand what compelled her to be so malicious. She planned to set things right.  
  
This new John was such a mystery to her though. Even she could tell that something was hurting him deeply. Aeryn had to know what. She decided to ask the only other person who knew the answer.  
  
  
  
Standing outside the Delvian's quarters, Aeryn started to have second thoughts. A weird vibe emanated from the room. Opening the door, she saw Zhaan huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth. The room looked as a righteous whirlwind had passed A puddle of tears was on the floor. "I'm sorry, so sorry," the priestess kept repeating.  
  
Horrified at the sight and deeply concerned, Aeryn rushed over to Zhaan's side. 'What did she see that turned her this way? How could anything disturb her this badly?' Tapping her comms she yelled, "John, get to Zhaan's quarters now!"  
  
"On my way," came the reply. Aeryn knelt down and grabbed her obviously sick friend by the shoulders. Zhaan looked up at her and the look Aeryn received sent a sickly cold chill up her spine.  
  
Pure, unadulterated hatred seemed to burn in Zhaan's normally caring and kind eyes. A hand shot up from below, gripping Aeryn's neck and lifting her off the floor. Aeryn tried to scream, but no air left or entered her lungs as she was slammed against the wall. "Do you want to know what I see?" Zhaan yelled maniacally. "Crichton's pain! All of it! All at once, all the same. And you!" she hissed. "Always you in the centre, or at the beginning, or at the end, but you are always there. No longer! I will not allow it anymore! He's suffered enough." Zhaan looked away. "His whole life...at once, so young, so young." She whispered to herself.  
  
Aeryn was afraid. She had never admitted fear before, not even to herself, but the look in Zhaan's eyes instilled a deep sense of terror. She was held by a madwoman.  
  
"Perhaps you'd like a peek? A little window into his world?" she cackled. The mad Delvian pulled her close and placed her head against Aeryn's.  
  
Pain filled her entire being. She felt her mind being torn apart. Her eyes opened. She felt strapped down to a chair. An ugly creature wearing a leather suit stared at her with faint amusement. Aeryn struggled against the straps. "Sorry John, it's not going to be that easy. Ready for another round?" Every nerve in her body burned as if on flame. She screamed. A thought drifted across her mind. 'I hope Aeryn got that nerve tissue. God, I hope she's alright. It'll make this all worth it. Hopefully I'll see that smile one more time. This cadaverous bastard hasn't beaten me yet, I still have hope, all I need. Yeah, right who am I kidding? Sound like a damn Boy Scout.' Another shot of pain coursed through Aeryn's body.  
  
The pain was gone. She opened her eyes and there she was staring back at herself. "Your father was the real hero, he did things. You were just some test monkey who screwed up on his first experiment." Then the memory changed. She saw herself call John, "Deficient human." "Stupid human." "Frelling human." The list continued. "John, we shouldn't." "I will not be a slave to your hormones!"  
  
She then learned about John's twinning and how she ran off with his double onto Talyn; Moya's child. Aeryn felt joy as she saw herself return, until she saw herself step out without saying a word, shrugging her away like she didn't exist. She heard about the other John dying. She saw herself treat John like a ghost through his eyes. Through John's eyes she saw herself leave him, alone. She knew about the pregnancy and John's rush after her, stranding him in the middle of a graveyard.  
  
Heard her voice tell him that the universe didn't need another bastard child of Crichton. Kicks and punches belted into his skin by various species and people, including her own. The intense feeling of loss after each death he had caused, loss of what he called his humanity. Guilt, supreme guilt, bathed her, threatening to drown her. The feelings were unbelievably intense. Nothing was as bad as the pain and hurt. Crichton's feelings and emotions were going to drown her like a flood. They threatened to rip her feeling of self like a tidal wave, she was humbled by it, scared as well.  
  
Then light shone through the veil of despair shrouding her. A single feeling, warm and fuzzy to the touch. It bathed her in it's intensity as the golden light caressed her skin. She barely felt the torrent of tears that gushed down her cheeks in rapture. The feeling was like no other she had even imagined. Suddenly a brief word flashed past her awareness naming the feeling: Love.  
  
It happened like a flash of lightning, and she knew it was only a bit of Crichton's life, his essence, but just as fast as it came, it left. For Aeryn though, it had felt like an eternity. Before she crashed to the floor, the last thing that registered was a figure soaring through the air like a wraith as it belted into Zhaan's side and knocked her down. Feeling drained and weak Aeryn looked up at the shadow.  
  
"Leave her alone! My memories are my own!" shouted John angrily as he picked himself up off the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry," Zhaan repeated on her knees as she wept.  
  
The blue priestess suddenly fainted and swooned to the deck, most likely due to exhaustion. John gingerly picked her up and placed her upon a cot gently. Kissing her forehead he placed her hand in his and squeezed. Mouthing a silent prayer covered her in blankets protectively. Then he walked over to Aeryn's limp form. Lifting her up, he walked out of the room in order to put her in her quarters.  
  
"Was it like that?" Aeryn asked grief stricken.  
  
John nodded. "It was like that, and there's probably a lot more you didn't see or feelings you didn't experience. You got the six-second teaser trailer, which is not very enlightening. You know, there were good moments too. It wasn't all bad. Well, mostly bad towards the end. The beginning was alright, though. Some memories I'd never forget, nor would want to forget . ever."  
  
Aeryn's tear stained eyes looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She too vowed never to forget the good feeling she had seen, the love, for her.  
  
John looked at her in mock horror. "Oh my god, what is that, like three times in one day? God, you've probably never even apologized to me once before." A hearty grin played against his features. "Fugetaboutit," John said in his lousiest Italian accent. What did it matter? Like an alien would know the difference between a good or bad accent.  
  
A slow smile spread across Aeryn's lips at John's odd new way of pronunciation. "What's changed? When you first arrived, you were all dark and brooding, but now you're different. What happened?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I realized there's no point going the rest of my life upset and feeling like I got stiffed. I have to make do with what I got left, and I still got my looks, my charm, and my winning attitude," Crichton answered, wiggling his eyebrows. Aeryn looked at him incredulously. "And," he added reluctantly, "Someone helped me remember who I was, who I am, and where I came from." Aeryn wasn't sure, she knew him better. He might only be wearing one of many masks he had to learn in order to survive out here.  
  
"And who are you?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious? I'm Dracula and I came to suck your blood," John announced in another bad accent.  
  
Aeryn rolled her eyes, though she probably would've hit him if she had the strength to move her arms.  
  
John reached the door to her room. Opening it, he walked inside with Aeryn cradled in his arms. Delicately, he laid her on the bed. He then gently covered her with blankets, with the utmost precision. He kneeled next to her exhausted body and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. Zhaan had no right.," he trailed off. "Good night, Sunshine." Tenderly he kissed her on the forehead, then hastily stood up and walked towards the door.  
  
"John please don't go. Don't leave me alone tonight. Stay with me," Aeryn pleaded.  
  
John dropped his head and stopped dead. "I can't," he whispered softly. Swiftly, he walked out of the room. Aeryn closed her eyes sadly; why would he want to be with such an evil person like her? She soon drifted off to a sensation less slumber. She couldn't see the tear that ran down his cheek.  
  
  
  
"That was foolish of you, Johnny. What you wanted was practically thrown at your feet. How could you turn it down?"  
  
Crichton sighed. "Harv, I thought you understood me by now. I'd only end up hurting her in the end. You know that. It wouldn't be fair. And don't call me Johnny!" Harvey walked out from a corner looking like a character from Pulp Fiction. "Dear god, what next, the frelling gimp?" he muttered to himself.  
  
"John, John, John," Harvey chided. "When did the universe start playing fair? Come on; grow up! You should take the little happiness that's presented to you."  
  
"Harv, you know me better than that. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt her like that."  
  
Straightening his tie and removing his shades, Harvey looked at him coldly. "That thought didn't seem to stop her."  
  
John winced. "Hey man, low blow. Above the belt, please. I'm sorry; I'm just not that type of person. This conversation is over."  
  
  
  
"Pilot we need to stop at a commerce planet soon, so keep a lookout for one."  
  
"Of course." Pilot answered. Gilina strode out of the den, heading for hers and John's quarters. It was getting fairly late. The faint sound of humming caught her attention. Turning about, she saw Crichton stride into the den humming a tune she'd caught him humming before. Something about 1812 or something like that. She was about to go after John, but then she noticed his haggard appearance. This was obviously the other Crichton. His eyes were bloodshot, bags and dark circles underneath. Apparently he hadn't slept much lately.  
  
He began to speak. "Yo Pilot!"  
  
The large grey creature looked up at him. "Good evening Commander, is there something I can do for you?"  
  
John rubbed his hands together. Gilina noticed his arms were filthy with some sort of black dirt or liquid. Sweat glistened on his skin. It was probably from working on the Farscape. "Actually, Pilot, yeah. Could you find an uninhabited planet, with vegetation, water, extremely pleasant -- you know, something like my home?"  
  
Pilot looked unsure for a moment, but promptly nodded. "I understand, and I will try." He shrugged it off as homesickness but as Pilot he would endeavour to find something that would suit John.  
  
The human clapped his hands together. "Thanks Pilot, you have no idea how much this means to me. Good night."  
  
"You're welcome, and good night to you as well, Commander."  
  
Gilina walked off trying not to be seen. 'A planet like his home? Why?' she wondered. Filing it away for another time, she headed for her quarters. 


	8. Differences

Chapter 8: Differences  
  
The next day Pilot told everyone of a commerce planet he was picking up on sensors. Upon hearing the news, Crichton did the first thing that came to mind; he went for his gun. Aeryn came with him to pick up her trusty pulse rifle. "You okay?" he asked.  
  
"I'm fine Crichton," she responded stiffly.  
  
'Ouch, that's not a good sign.' "What's wrong Aeryn?"  
  
Looking at him stonily she walked ahead and out of sight.  
  
"Not my week," John said to no one in particular. "Not my year," he mumbled as an afterthought.  
  
Grabbing Winona and a spare pistol, he headed for the transport pod. Aeryn, Gilina, and, well, other John were there waiting for him. "Where's Big D?" asked Crichton, confused.  
  
"What? You trust Buckwheat to hang around Moya by himself? Besides, someone else has to keep an eye on Blue, make sure she doesn't hurt herself," replied other him.  
  
Spying his duel pistols, John deux looked at the others. "Why is he allowed to have pulse pistols? You accidentally blow up a gun and you get typecast for life!" he said, exasperated.  
  
The others just rolled their eyes. John walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid, you might get one when you're older."  
  
The other Crichton went into the transport, pouting. "Like you never blew up a pulse pistol!" he accused.  
  
"Never accidentally," John lied.  
  
"Yeah, and Captain Kirk was a virgin," grumbled his disgruntled other self.  
  
  
  
The trip down on the planet was as uneventful as usual, which of course is saying a lot.  
  
"OW!" shouted John. Buckling, he hit the ground, a little peeved. "Son of a bitch! You have any idea how hard it is to get a decent pair of pants?" he yelled angrily. Pulling his pulse pistols out of their holsters, he turned with one knee on the ground and his jacket followed him like something out of an action movie sequence. Squeezing the triggers, blasts of pure energy blasted his assailant between the eyes. Kicking dirt up in his wake he flew behind a vendor's cart. Loud screams could be heard ringing through the marketplace. Unable to stand he ducked around a corner, trying to evade his pursuers.  
  
Lying in wait, hidden by shadows, he awaited his second victim. Bursting in the passage, a leather-clad figure looked around nervously with his gun held tightly gripped. At the right moment, Crichton kicked with his good leg at the back of his aggressor's knees. The enemy dropped and John sprang out and bashed him across the face with the butt of his pistol. Looking carefully, he saw the uniform. Peacekeeper. 'It's a regular day in the neighbourhood,' he thought wryly. Looking around the alley, he noticed a pipe that led up to the roof of a small building. "You have got to be kidding," sighed John.  
  
Peeking past a corner he squeezed off two blasts, knocking out another PK. "Okay, John, breathe, remember gym class. Oh man, that is something I'd rather not remember." Shaking his head, John started to climb up the pipe. One attacker, interested in the gunfire that emanated from the area, caught Crichton when he was three quarters up the pipe. Yelling for her companions, she looked back up in time to see a pulse blast blow right through her chest. Smoke and burnt flesh sizzled.  
  
The two remaining Peacekeepers appeared, finding their fallen comrade alone in the dank alley, no one else was visible. Until a rain of death came from above and pummelled them into twisted, burnt figures of blood, bone, and skin.  
  
Panting heavily, John limped back toward the open markets and crowds. Upon seeing him, Aeryn, other him, and Gilina walked over to him.  
  
"Frell you, Crichton, where have you been?" Aeryn asked with her usual amount of tact and subtlety.  
  
"We were worried sick about you," added Gilina.  
  
Other John looked over him. "Ah, guys, he's bleeding, and that is a fairly large hole in his leg," he announced worriedly.  
  
"You noticed," replied Crichton dryly. "But don't worry, it's only a flesh wound," he said, wincing.  
  
"What happened to you?" inquired the blond tech.  
  
"Well I kinda got cornered in one of the side streets by our friendly neighbourhood Peacekeepers."  
  
Other John groaned, Gilina paled, and Aeryn was, well, Aeryn. Her cheeks flushed and she unholstered her gun. "Where are they?"  
  
"Dead," came the response.  
  
The others looked at him oddly. "This isn't time to be playing around, Crichton," an angry Aeryn told him.  
  
"Why would I play around? They're dead," Crichton said confused.  
  
"You must've missed a few, we should go find them," Gilina concluded.  
  
John shook his head. "No I got them all. It was a group of five, standard Marauder complement."  
  
All of them scoffed at his comment. Actually, they started laughing outright. "What?" John asked somewhat defensively.  
  
"You expect us to believe that you, injured I might add, were able to take out a whole Marauder squad?" Aeryn said in disbelief.  
  
He shrugged. "Don't believe me, just go back and check the bodies for yourself. While you're doing that, I'm going to go to the transport pod and sit down and try not to frelling bleed to death." And with that he limped his way back to the transport pod.  
  
"What's eating him?" Asked Crichton number two.  
  
"Perhaps an aversion to getting shot at?" answered Gilina. With that, she scampered off after the wounded one. Crichton decided to follow Aeryn to check the bodies, disbelieving that his other self was capable of taking down a Marauder crew.  
  
  
  
Looking down at the charred bodies, John did the only sensible thing: he threw up. The stench of burnt flesh and fused bone wafted into his nostrils and kept him heaving up the measly contents of his stomach.  
  
Aeryn looked disbelievingly at the grisly scene, not so much from the sight of it, which she was used to, but amazed that John could do anything like this. How he did it was beyond her. 'I must've been a very good teacher,' she thought. It made her feel a certain twisted sense of pride. Suddenly she remembered why Crichton had had to learn how to defend himself, and her mood sobered.  
  
  
  
Gilina was restless. That night in bed, John had told her of the dead bodies and how he couldn't believe that John Crichton could ever do something like that. It obviously frightened him. Especially the cool, calculating, heartless demeanour his twin had when he finished dispatching his assailants.  
  
Gilina caressed his chest and held him tightly. She whispered softly into his ear, "It might be John Crichton, but it's not you. You must understand, he's been through much more than you, and no matter how he acts what he looks like; he's a different person. Separate from you. It wasn't you who killed them coolly and efficiently; it was him. And he is not you."  
  
She felt John tremble beneath her. "It could've been, Gilina. It could've been."  
  
Soon falling asleep, Crichton stayed utterly still. His last words, "It could've been," puzzled her. She knew he might have ended up under the same circumstances as his twin had but that wasn't the whole story. There was something in the way he said it that made her itch uncomfortably; there was no other word to describe it. It wasn't a physical itch, but a mental one that she couldn't scratch. Getting up, she went to talk to the only other person that could provide the answers, and he never slept.  
  
  
  
John Crichton, lonely and dispossessed human, went to work on a special project he had planned. Before getting shot, he and the others had managed to get the things they needed. John had gotten some special things for himself, including a few items to make an interesting drink.  
  
Working tirelessly to sculpt and shape the metal he purchased, he managed to make a few pieces to his liking. Deciding that was enough for one night, he began to toil on Farscape. Sighing exhaustedly afterwards, he stood up and patted his module lovingly, the one thing in the universe that never let him down. Wiping sweat off his brow, he grabbed a rag to remove the large deposits of oil and grease from his arms. Echoing footsteps in the usually silent halls caught his attention. Limping with a slight wince, as the bandages wrapping his wound were a tad tight, he inched towards the sound.  
  
Striding in confidently, Gilina entered the maintenance bay. Strangely enough, Crichton seemed to be nowhere in sight. Turning around to leave, she found herself standing nose to nose with John. He had a very smug, self-satisfied grin. She cursed herself for being caught off guard like that. It didn't matter if she was just a tech, she still should've been able to hear an injured and deficient human sneak up on her. Trying not to show her chagrin, she smiled; it hurt.  
  
"Something I can help you with, Ma'am?" Laying on his southern accent so thick you'd think it was oil. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. Unable to stop herself, she found herself genuinely grinning.  
  
Chiding herself again, she took a step back and her smile fell away. "Yes, there is in fact. I'd like answers."  
  
Crichton's grin faltered for a moment. "Wouldn't we all," he muttered, more for himself then for her.  
  
"John!" Gilina yelled a bit angrily.  
  
Letting out a sigh he limped towards a workbench and sat down. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"What made your life so different?"  
  
His blue eyes gazed and burrowed down to her soul. "Any particular reason you want to know?" he asked softly.  
  
Gilina struggled to find the words. "My John said something about almost becoming you, and I guess there was something about the way he said it that...rubbed off on me oddly, I guess," she said, using one of John's expressions unconsciously.  
  
The Crichton sitting in front of her nodded in understanding. "The difference, Gilina, was you."  
  
A puzzled expression played upon her features. "Me?" Rubbing his eyes tiredly, John nodded an affirmative. "What do you mean me?"  
  
"You never came with me after the Zelbinion, you went back to Crais' carrier."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Crichton shrugged. "I never pleaded for you to come, not really. I thought you'd be safer without us. Irony, it seems, is not without a sense of humour."  
  
"I died didn't I?"  
  
John nodded and stood up. Moving towards his module, he continued talking. "Yeah, you did. You died loving me, protecting me, and I loved someone else. You died because I loved someone else. Y-you were dying, I could see the life empty out of your eyes, it seemed to drain out as the light in them faded and I couldn't tell you I loved you. My god, how cruel that must've been, how cruel. What have I become? I ponder that a lot and I don't know." Tears seeped out of John's tightly closed eyes.  
  
Gilina sat down on the bench John previously occupied, hard. Dying without John telling her he loved her. She couldn't imagine that sort of pain. "Who did you love?" she asked gently.  
  
"You mean do, as in still love." John paused and started again with a sigh. "I love Aeryn, and there is nothing I can do about it. Actually, she's what I was doing at the Gammak Base you were stationed at. Aeryn was hurt, bad. Stabbed and it damaged her paraphoral nerve. Long story short, I got captured, you and her saved my ass, you got shot, you died, boom, the end." John's cracked voice cracked, madness crept into his eyes.  
  
Before Gilina could ask anything else, Pilot's voice came in through Crichton's comm. "Commander Crichton, the type of planet you were searching for has been located. It will take two solar days to reach it."  
  
"Thanks Pilot, set a course." John headed out of the maintenance bay. "Saved by the bell," he muttered to himself.  
  
"Where you going?"  
  
"To get some rest. Injuries inflicted by little yellow bolts of light don't heal themselves," he grumbled as he disappeared into the corridor.  
  
'This Crichton going to sleep?' Gilina thought. "Well, frell me dead," she whispered under her breath very lightly in disbelief.  
  
"Is that an invitation?" John shouted from down the hall. With a small smile, Gilina headed back to her quarters. 


	9. Drifting Home

Chapter 9: Drifting Home  
  
The planet below stretched across Crichton's field of view. It was a silent jewel, forever performing in an ancient dance as old as time itself. Its magnificent rings embraced it as a crown upon a king, and were no less impressive. He smiled a genuine smile; such things were rare these days, and he treasured it more than any material good. 'I've found just what I was looking for,' he thought to himself. "Thanks Pilot," he murmured gratefully.  
  
"You're welcome," buzzed the response through John's comms.  
  
Startled, he looked down at the device. "Are these always on for you to listen in on us?"  
  
"Not all the time," answered the grey crustacean-like creature.  
  
"I sure as hell hope not." John muttered.  
  
"Commander, I would just like to say that the story involving that creature you called a cow w--"  
  
"Pilot! Uh...let's not get into that right now shall we?" shouted Crichton his face turning a deep shade of crimson.  
  
"As you wish Commander." For some eerie reason, John felt that he could hear Pilot snickering. Feeling self-conscious, he walked away to gather the things he needed.  
  
  
  
Standing in front of Farscape 1, Crichton found a crowd of one waiting to see him off. "You're sure you don't want anyone to come down with you?" asked a concerned Aeryn. "It wouldn't be a problem; I'm sure D'Argo, or maybe even Gilina, would love to go visit the planet."  
  
"No, no, it's alright, I'd rather go on alone, Sunshine. I need time to myself. My life's been frelling hectic, and I need a break, a change of scenery, y'know what I mean?"  
  
Aeryn pursed her lips. "No, but then I stopped trying a long time ago."  
  
Sighing, John slung the bag with all his measly belongings into the Farscape.  
  
Looking back at Aeryn, he gave her a small smile. "Don't worry, I'll only be gone a little while. I doubt too much could go wrong down there."  
  
Aeryn looked at him incredulously. "I can't believe you just said that."  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief he replied, "Neither can I." Looking back into her eyes, tracing every curve of her face and committing it to memory, he finally said, "Goodbye, Aeryn." Jumping into the module he sealed the cockpit, got everything ready for launch, and sped away into cold space. Aeryn noticed a small object John had placed in his pocket, but thinking nothing of it, she walked away.  
  
  
  
Aboard Moya, another John Crichton was bored, with nothing to do. "Why does he get to go the planet and I have to stay here?"  
  
"What, you're saying you're regretting spending more time with me?" asked a slightly naked Gilina.  
  
"No, of course not. It's just, I don't know, that planet looks like home, except for the rings, of course, and the...never mind. I guess I'm just feeling homesick."  
  
Gilina wrapped him in a warm and comfy embrace. "This make you feel better?"  
  
With a silly smile on his face, John nodded dumbly. Suddenly a loud rumble broke the comforting silence. "John?"  
  
Embarrassed, he responded weakly, "Uh...that was my stomach. I'm starving, haven't eaten all day."  
  
  
  
Walking into the empty mess hall John saw something on the table. It was a glass of some strange bluish-green liquid. He eyed it suspiciously. Below was a note, scribbled roughly as if in a hurry. It read:  
  
"Dear John, I've always wanted to write a Dear John letter! Here's a little something concocted to make the days go by a little more pleasurably. I've got the recipe stashed in my quarters somewhere. Don't worry 'bout the colour, it's perfectly drinkable...I hope. Well, at any rate if I drop dead by the time you receive this note then I probably wouldn't drink it. Hope things keep looking up for you. Here's looking at you, kid.  
  
"Signed, John Crichton, The Han Solo of the Uncharted Territories."  
  
Setting the note down, John picked up the strange-looking flask. "Why the hell not?" he whispered and kicked back a shot. His taste buds lighted up to the familiar flavour. "Well I'll be...a damned margarita shooter." With a smile, he took another sip.  
  
  
  
The cool water engulfed his body and caressed his hot skin. Gently floating atop the clear lake, he looked up into the sky. The blue above was the same colour as the liquid that had embraced him with the gentleness of a loved blanket. Diving below the water, John felt as if he were flying. His head broke the serene surface and he looked back upon his surroundings. A white pristine beach ran across the shore. The beautiful forest seemed friendly with its autumn-like colours. The giant trees stood from the ground, greeting those who stumbled upon this oasis of beauty. Taking in a deep breath, he let the air saturate his blood and flow throughout the body.  
  
'What is it I'm missing?' John thought, mildly depressed. Even with all the beauty surrounding him, he still felt barren inside. He started swimming to shore.  
  
  
  
Sundown was coming rapidly. Setting up the job he'd be working on in the maintenance bay, he looked upon it with pride. "At last, the first recliner in the Uncharteds," he spoke aloud. Moving back towards the Farscape, he grabbed a cooler with a bizarre concoction he had made earlier. "I wonder if the other me has found his yet?" John asked the breeze. "Hope it doesn't kill him," he added.  
  
Turning around, he stifled a gasp. The sun had fallen to the horizon, and from the rocky ridge he had situated himself upon, he could see the whole valley down below. The oranges, reds, and golds bounced off the sparkling lake. The golden hues bathed everything in sight with their brilliance. The forest swayed as if alive. It was breathtaking.  
  
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Cautiously he pulled out Winona from it's holster. His body tensed waiting to throw itself into action at the slightest threatening movement. At last the creature came into full view. It was a cross between a football and a loaf of bread. The bug-like thing had two stalks protruding from the front. It was coloured red, white, and blue, with the numbers 1812 painted on the side.  
  
"Holy mother of pearl!" cried John, with a sigh of relief. "You're here? You scared the bejeezus outta me? But you were on Elack, weren't you? Leave it to Mother Teresa to have you keep your ey...stalks on me." With a grin, Crichton walked to and sat in his recliner. "Get over here, you! Don't you scare me like that again," he told the small DRD while he waved his finger at it.  
  
Somewhat hesitantly the small DRD complied. Tentatively picking up the small lovable robot, he held it in his arms like a child and stroked it's metal shell.  
  
Opening the cooler next to him, he pulled out a bottle with a bluish-green coloured liquid. Taking the small capsule he had placed in his pocket, he dropped it in and heard it sizzle as it dissolved. Putting the bottle to his lips, he took in a sip. "Oh yeah, now this is the good stuff. I got the sun, the stars, a recliner, the woods, my dog, and alcohol, what else could I possibly want?" He didn't even bother to voice the answer.  
  
Looking back upon the beautiful sunset, with the rainbow of purple, red, orange, and gold, he looked down at the small robot and whispered slowly "Play for me." Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture echoed through the forest.  
  
  
  
"Officer Sun! You're needed in Zhaan's quarters, right away!" shouted Pilot through one of the clamshell holo projectors.  
  
Startled, Aeryn acknowledged and ran down the corridor. "What's wrong Pilot?" she asked apprehensively.  
  
"I don't know. She just started damaging the room. It's unlike her. I tried to contact her, but she doesn't respond. Be careful, Officer Sun, she's extremely volatile."  
  
"I know Pilot, thanks," she replied absently stroking her neck.  
  
Moving in front of the golden gate, she opened the door. What she found scared her. Tables and chairs were flipped over, potions and broken glass covered the floor. The lights were dim and everything was covered in shadow. It looked menacing.  
  
"He's going! He's going! No, no, no! Can't be, mustn't be! Why is he leaving? Must stay, stay he must! Can't go! Not yet!" Zhaan shrieked and wailed. Looking over, her eyes found Aeryn. She started walking towards her. The sound of crunching glass reverberated off the walls.  
  
Suddenly a stray moment of lucidity cleared Zhaan's mind. "He's going, you know."  
  
Speaking slowly and carefully Aeryn asked, "Who's going?"  
  
"John, who else?"  
  
Aeryn's eyes widened. "He's going home?"  
  
Zhaan laughed madly. "He's going to die. That was the secret. The one behind the golden door! Death lurks everywhere and it has found him!"  
  
Aeryn sighed in relief; Zhaan was still crazy.  
  
"I'm not overly mad, child! I know what I know, and John will die! Go to him, young one. GO NOW!" she shouted. Yelling, she swept the cupboards and shelves with her hand. Glass shattered. The noise was deafening. "He has a pill, you know of what I speak, placed it in his pocket. It's poison," Aeryn moved back slowly. "That's right! Poison! Run child," Zhaan muttered. "When the sun hits low, the pill will show and we ask him why, with a sigh, he says he's going to die," she shouted, in singsong. She broke out in a sick laughter.  
  
Filled with dread, Aeryn paled. Turning around, she broke into a dead run to her prowler.  
  
  
  
She landed her prowler on the ridge where Farscape 1 was. Jumping out as quickly as possible, she ran towards the module. Then she saw him. He was sitting on some strange contraption with a drink of sorts in his hand. Strange music drifted to her from where he sat. It was low, and unmistakably sad.  
  
"Come enjoy the view," asked the frail human in a barely audible whisper.  
  
Standing next to him, she looked at the horizon. The sun was almost gone, but dazzling shades of purple and blue stretched out touching everything, with only the slightest touch of red. "It's beautiful," she managed.  
  
"Shush, just watch," he replied gently. The sun continued to dip below the far horizon. Stars exploded up above them, twinkling in greeting. There were so many! Vast clusters everywhere. The lake below sparkled as starlight bounced off the surface. "And not a single constellation recognized," John said sadly.  
  
The sweet music of chirping nocturnal birds floated about the area. The moon appeared, large as it was it took a large portion of the sky. The rings themselves could be seen above them, each glittering themselves. Aeryn saw the view with John's eyes and it was stunning. Turning around, she saw a tear fall down his cheek as the oddly painted DRD snuggled against him.  
  
"Zhaan said you were dying," she told him shakily.  
  
"Perceptive woman. She probably ripped that from my memories."  
  
Aeryn dropped to her knees. "It's true then? You...you're dying?"  
  
John turned his head to look at her. "I've been dying for a long time. Heartache, torture, mind frellings, constant beatings and knockouts -- they take their toll on someone after a while. My body is falling apart. Sorry Sunshine, I don't think you helped any," he said with a tiny grin reserved only for her. "I had been in remission for a bit, but it will come back, even worse than before."  
  
A look of understanding passed Aeryn's face. "Those times that blood ran from your nose and mouth."  
  
John nodded and continued. "I met a doctor before I came here. He told me I was dying and he couldn't stop it, nothing could. I'm sorry, but my deficient human self can't take any more and this time, in the literal sense."  
  
Anger flashed within Aeryn. "Never call yourself deficient!" she shouted.  
  
Taken aback, John looked at her with obvious surprise.  
  
"Nobody I love should be considered deficient," she continued in a whisper.  
  
Crichton raised an eyebrow with the addition of a smile. "You tell me this now? Great, just great," John muttered. "You have awesome timing Sunshine. You sure this ain't a mercy I love you? Leave the dead guy with a going away present sorta thing." He removed any malice by his tone of voice, which was in mock bitterness.  
  
A small sad smile was on Aeryn's lips. "I...I know you. When Zhaan gave me pieces of your memories, I heard your thoughts. I felt your love, it did something to me; it changed me. The experience was beyond anything I could possibly imagine. Without it, I felt empty, but with you around the feeling returned. It was then I realized I love you." Aeryn looked back at the sky. "That day after I was with Zhaan, you could've stayed. Why didn't you?"  
  
John sighed. "It wouldn't have been fair. I also couldn't have gone through with this."  
  
Aeryn's pulse quickened. "What have you done?"  
  
"Taken the pill."  
  
Her heart stopped dead.  
  
"But that's poison. Zhaan said it was poison."  
  
"Yeah it is. Trust me, it's better this way. If I let it run its course, I'd soon become crippled. After that, I would be paralysed. Eventually I'd be unable to speak, or breathe, or eat on my own. Most likely, I'd end up dying from loss of blood. It'd be as bad as any living death. I saw my mother die that way and I vowed I would never want to go like that, I wouldn't want to put the rest of you through that. Please try and understand," he pleaded.  
  
Aeryn didn't reprimand him or yell at him or call him a coward. She kissed him. Crichton was lost in the sweetness of her soft lips. He drank her in as the sweetest nectar on the prettiest flower; he couldn't stop himself. Her exotic taste fell on his tongue and moved into his entire being. He felt whole again. Then they broke apart.  
  
Making room for herself on the chair he had built, she sat next to him. Putting his arm around her John felt Aeryn snuggled against his chest. She felt so soft. Tears stung his eyes as they did hers. Aeryn looked up at the stars, enraptured by their beauty. She caught Crichton looking at her. "What are you looking at?" she asked tenderly.  
  
"The most beautiful thing on this planet to see," he replied truthfully, fully aware of its corniness but that seemed trivial now.  
  
Aeryn smiled, the smile that made life worth living in John's opinion. They sat there unmoving for over an arn, but for them seemed like only a microt.  
  
"It's time," John whispered.  
  
"What?" Aeryn asked concerned.  
  
"The pi ... ill ... pill is tak ... taking effect." He said with much effort. "It paralyses muscles, and finally stops the heart and ceases brain activity." John spoke each word with much care. "I'm going," he whispered.  
  
"No you can't, you can't go! I love you John, don't leave me." Aeryn whispered shakily. Tears fell uncontrollably.  
  
"Fate looks as if it has other plans," replied Crichton.  
  
"Please, you have to stay. I don't want to be alone," Aeryn cried.  
  
"Just hold me Aeryn. I'm frightened."  
  
John felt his life drain from his limbs. All his strength disappeared. It felt as if he were fading, like a shade. Aeryn's tear-stained face filled his vision. Oh, how he wished he could soothe her.  
  
His vision started to fade; all was going dark around him. Memories of life flashed before his eyes. He saw it all, every experience, every movie, every date, everything he'd ever seen or done. It was incredible. He looked up at the sky. Lights blurred and swirled as his synapses started to fire randomly.  
  
Aeryn's tear blurred vision saw Crichton turn towards the sky as she held him close. "Oh my god, it's full of stars," he whispered. His body then turned limp beneath her.  
  
"No, please no, it can't be!" Aeryn's grief stricken sobs joined the symphony of the forest below. The small DRD began to play once again.  
  
  
  
His burial ceremony was a solemn event. The news of John's death came as a surprise to most of the crew. Gilina stood in the corner, crying uncontrollably. The other Crichton held her, his face grave during the sombre occasion. D'Argo stood as hard as a rock, looking as if he were a guard protecting the body from any unseen foes. Rygel sat regally in his throne sled, looking down at the proceedings, trying not to look as if he cared, though he did deeply. Pilot, unable to attend in person, watched through his clamshell projector. Aeryn hovered over the body, her face set in stone while normally unseen tears flowed freely.  
  
Zhaan performed the ceremony; she was now recovering from her ordeal from unity with John. It seemed her link to Crichton never really broke, and that was what had been driving her slowly mad. Now, with his death, the dark shroud had finally lifted, but this gave her no consolation. When she finally finished, she crumpled to the deck, weeping without reservation. D'Argo helped her up and supported her against his strong frame.  
  
Wordlessly, Aeryn lifted Crichton off the table he had been laid upon. Slowly and gently, she moved him into the cockpit of Farscape 1 and gingerly strapped him in. The small DRD known as 1812 was already waiting and moved against his friend's leg like a cat. Picking the DRD up Aeryn placed it in John's lap and gave it a small affectionate smile. "Take care of him." She whispered. The two eyestalks seemed to nod an affirmative. Setting in the coordinates and auto launch sequence, she closed the cockpit and stood back. Farscape 1's thrusters fired up and the small module returned to the barren desert known as space.  
  
  
  
Standing upon a white sandy beach, a man could see palm trees stretching across the sandy expanse. The crashing of waves combined with the familiar sound of seagulls. A small wood stained house could be seen in the distance. In this distance, somewhere in front of the house, a figure could be seen. She had long raven black hair and her beauty seemed to radiate even to where the man was standing. He smiled and his sparkling blue eyes twinkled. He had gotten what he had wished for; he was at peace. He had gotten his one good day.  
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
